Not Another Medieval Story Tale
by MyMoniker
Summary: Sort-of-College AU; Merlin/Arthur. It seems like fate (or some divine joke) when Merlin moves to 'Camelot' College and meet the popular Arthur Pendragon, yet his life is hardly some modern-take on a medieval tale; it lacks both of intrigue and the action - that is, until it doesn't. *Bear in mind that this is a first attempt* (Note: set in the UK) (Also being posted on AO3).
1. Chapter 1: First Impressions

Merlin did not enter North Camden College with high hopes for success.

Intellectually he did just fine, in fact, he exceeded all expectations, and passed all examinations with scores enough to win him the complete scholarship; it was the rest of it that left him weak-kneed and tongue-tied. The whole 'making friends' bit. Because he'd only really had one friend in his life – not that there'd been a wide selection to choose from in his tiny home-town back in Wales – and he'd more stumbled across Will than actually befriended him.

With his familiar tattered backpack slung over one shoulder and the rest of his belongings supposedly already there, he arrived at the college.

The chauffeur-driven car had been a pleasant surprise at the bus station in town – one of the perks of being a scholarship student living in the next country over – but he felt awkward as he climbed out of the back-seat, leather seat squeaking beneath him, and staggering upright.

Did he say goodbye? Thank you? He didn't even know the man's name.

"Thank-" he began, twisting around to knock on the passenger side window, but his problem was solved by the car pulling away apropos of nothing, leaving him standing at the end of the long gravel drive at the front of the college with one hand extended awkwardly.

Dropping his arms, and turning to face the school, he swallowed against the constriction in his throat and gripped tightly on the straps of his pack.

Staring at the looming architecture of the ancient school, Merlin quashed his nerves and headed towards the front office.

* * *

The bell rang to signify the end of class and Arthur was out of the class before half of the others were even out of their seats. A harsh grin was curving his lips even as he strode confidently down the corridor: today was football practice and he fully intended in breaking in the new lad on the team before their latest match.

Leon and the rest had promised to meet up with him as soon as they could, but luckily his advanced corporate strategies class ended earlier than theirs, so he had an extra half-hour with the new boy before they arrived.

He was quicker than usual in the changing rooms, swapping his shirt, tie and trousers for the tracksuit pants and t-shirt that was standard-issue winter sportswear, and hurrying onto the field as soon as his trainers were laced.

Waiting for him were five or six of the usual team members and the new boy. He was gangly and nervous, but they were short on players during this time of year when replacements were so often needed.

"Hey Arthur!" one of the guys, Daniel, yelled, clapping him on the shoulder as he jogged over. The new kid looked nervous already, his eyes wide as he took in Arthur; broad-shouldered, golden-haired and with a cocky grin deserved of his notoriety.

"So, you're the new one, eh?" Arthur asked, sizing the boy up. He was tallish, with the capability of filling out, but if they didn't do something about his jumpiness he'd be ducking away every time the ball went near him. "What was your name again? Gary? Grant?"

"Gregory," he was quietly corrected, the boy's eyes flicking up and away.

"Ah, alright, Greg," he said, rubbing his hands together and ignoring him as the lad winced at the nickname. "Just watch us and do what we do."

The team (the few of them that were there) fell into their usual pre-practise routine of stretches and light jogging until they were limbered up and their heart rates quickened. Afterwards, one of the guys, Joseph, grabbed a football and kicked it over to Arthur at his request.

"Now, Greg," Arthur said, leading him towards the goal, "we're just gonna do some basics to see where you are with dodging, defending, tackling, etcetera, alright?" The boy nodded and stood awkwardly in the goal like he'd never taken the position before – maybe he never had. Arthur wanted to just dismiss him right then and there, but they couldn't really afford to have an empty spot if he or Leon got out of play.

It took only twenty minutes for Arthur to be relatively certain that the kid was both absolutely hopeless and lacking any potential for improvement.

He returned to the rest of the assembled team, vaguely annoyed that they were still waiting on Leon, Bors, Kay and the rest. It had been a long half-hour and Arthur never had much patience for useless dolts wasting his training time.

After a two minute break they resumed their positions: Gregory back in goal (the place he seemed to screw up the least, as dribbling and tackling were far beyond his capabilities) and Arthur and the lads were loosely assembled outside the box.

Arthur shared a brief look with the others and then he made a quick shot without warning. The ball slammed into the net a few inches from Gregory, who startled so much that he nearly fell on his ass. Behind him, Arthur heard the resounding laughter of his mates. With trembling hands, Gregory grabbed the ball and returned it to Arthur – although at least three metres off-target.

With irritating outweighing his slight guilt, Arthur took another shot without warning, this one just glancing off Gregory's thigh and causing him to hop backwards and tangle himself in the white netting behind him.

As Gregory returned the ball and Arthur lined up for a third shot he heard a calm voice call over the field, "Hey, come on, that's enough." Arthur near enough froze on the spot; slowly he turned to face the interrupter, someone standing just off the side of the pitch, his head tilted slightly to one side and a small patient smile on his lips.

"What?" Arthur demanded, taking slow steps towards the vacant-minded idiot interrupting his training. Who was this guy to come and tell him how to train his team? His face was unfamiliar, so clearly he was new, and by the looks of things he wasn't Camden's usual sort: dressed in casual jeans and a plain red shirt, with mussed dark hair and a slouching stance that spoke of little discipline.

"You've had your fun," the boy continued, even as Arthur approached.

"Do I know you?" Arthur asked, his tone deceivingly cordial.

"I doubt it," he replied, smile quirking into a lazy smirk.

"Then you don't know me either?" Arthur stated, his tone just cool enough to pass as a question.

"It would seem not," the boy returned, unabashed.

"Well my name's Arthur and I am the captain of this-" he broke off, his expression turning both incredulous and angry as the boy nearly doubled over in his sudden fit of laughter. "What the hell are you laughing at?" he yelled. The boy struggled to straighten, a hand pressed to his mouth, blue eyes dancing with humour as his torso shook with barely repressed laughter.

"It's just-…I'm sorry-…I-" he pulled his hand away to speak, but his words seemed to fall over each other in his attempt to speak resulting in unintelligible nonsense.

"Why were you laughing at me?" Arthur demanded.

"It's nothing," the boy insisted, finally managed to calm himself down until he was only smiling brightly.

"Tell me," Arthur said again, in the tone that brooked no argument. Even Morgana usually relented when he took that tone with her; it was his universal sign for I've-had-enough-just-get-to-the-damned-point.

The boy's smile widened, "Or what?" he asked.

* * *

Merlin knew it was a mistake, but he'd be damned if it didn't give him a rush of joy when Arthur's (and yes, that seemed to be his actual name, what were the chances?) face darkened and his body went taut.

"What did you say?"

"Or what?" Merlin repeated, enunciating as clearly as he could, as though Arthur was some child with hearing problems.

Arthur moved, but it seemed to happen in some lithe pulse of energy that lacked the time for full consideration. Merlin's arm came up automatically but Arthur easily knocked it aside, grabbing onto his wrist and twisted it behind his back in one movement.

They stood like that for a moment: Arthur an angry presence at Merlin's back, pushing just hard enough for a slight throbbing pain to beat through Merlin's arm.

"I don't like your chances," Arthur growled, and even Merlin's smile dropped to be replaced by a tight-lipped annoyance.

"Who'd you think you are to assault random students?" Merlin muttered. "A prince?"

"Not quite," Arthur corrected, "the headmaster's son."

* * *

It was barely the end of Merlin's first afternoon and he'd already made an enemy of the most influential student on campus. He felt that more or less summed up his chances of finding peace in the school.

"It could've been worse," he muttered to himself as he walked up the second flight of stairs in the residential building.

And while technically it was true that it could've been worse, Merlin was just relieved that it wasn't. Getting reprimanded on his first day would not set a good precedent, although he'd taken Arthur's determined warning of '_Don't come near me or next time I'll make it serious'_ to heart.

Either way, there was only one thing he truly, desperately wanted in that moment: for him to at least have a reasonably tolerable room-mate. They'd be sharing for at least the rest of the semester – and longer if Merlin decided he wanted to continue his education at Camden past that time – so he really hoped he wouldn't be stuck with some tosser that he'd hate.

Standing in the doorway, looking at the little bronze numberplate, he felt suddenly unsure.

Absurdly, he decided it might be appropriate to knock first – it might be his room now, but who knew what his room-mate might be doing in there?

There was a slow moment where nothing happened and Merlin promised himself that if he didn't get an answer he'd just take out his own key and-

The door swung open to a vaguely Latino and highly attractive youth standing in the doorway, his brown eyes slightly unfocused and his similarly brown hair tousled enough to rival even Merlin's dark messy mop. "Yes?" he asked, sounding more tired than Merlin felt.

"My, uh, name's Merlin?" he said more of a question than a statement, and immediately the boy's face lit into a smile.

"Come in, come in," he said, voice bright, ushering Merlin inside, a hand at his back guiding him inside as he shut the door with a quiet click. The right side of the room belonged to Merlin, though each side appeared to be mirrored in what they contained: a single bed, pushed against the wall, a chest of draws and a closet. At the end of the room in the centre was a window, and beneath it was a long low bookshelf, mostly empty except for a few titles piled messily in the top left.

"I'm Lance," his room-mate said by way of introduction, "I've been at Camden for about half a year." He sat on his bed, the covers pulled messily back like Merlin had woken him up. Actually, from the looks of things, that's exactly what he'd done. Merlin had to glance at the well-lit window just to prove to himself that, yes, it was still only four thirty in the afternoon. "I was curious when I saw all the books," Lance added, nodding to one of several cardboard boxes await Merlin beside his bed, one of them opened slightly.

"You went through my things?" Merlin asked, confused and a little annoyed.

"'Course not!" Lance snapped back, his smile still jovial and a tad cheeky, "I just had to see if you were going to be one of those sleaze balls bringing girls back to the room. Actually, I thought you were gonna be a bit nerd when I saw the books – not that that's a problem but…" he shrugged, trailing off and gesturing at Merlin, "I don't know quite what to make of you."

"Yeah, well," Merlin offered with a shrug of his own, "I'm not much of anything."

Lance's crooked smile was reassuring and kind, "Just give it some time. With a name like Merlin, it seems like fate that you'd end up at Camelot."

"But isn't this-?"

"Officially called Camden College, yes," Lance chuckled, "but with a headmaster with the name Uther Pendragon and his son Arthur we could hardly pass up a chance at such a befitting title."

"Seriously?" Merlin asked, an eyebrow arching. "Pendragon? That's pretty odd."

"Yeah, they go way back," Lance agreed, "probably some royal blood in there somewhere. Although Emrys isn't exactly a common surname either."

"It's Welsh."

"Ah. That explains the accent."


	2. Chapter 2: Introductions

Three hours and half a pint later and Arthur was about ready for round two with that brainless dolt from the footie pitch.

Leon was sat to hit right, Bors and Kay opposite. The three of them were amongst Arthur's closest friends, and as such they'd accepted his tirade of complaints about his earlier altercation with understanding and good-natured amusement; it wasn't so often they saw Arthur get riled up about a confrontation with anyone, let alone a complete stranger.

"What'd you say his name was?" Leon asked, an eyebrow arched curiously.

"I didn't," Arthur returned, his sharp tone edged with a discontent. At their curious looks, Arthur let out an aggravated sigh, "He didn't give a name and he's new so no one's told me yet. Father hadn't even told me we were expecting anyone new today."

Leon shrugged, "Then I guess there's no point stewing over it, eh?"

Arthur nodded sharply, his thoughts shifting quickly to the upcoming match against Barton College with only an infinitesimal shred of reluctance. Although, true to form, as soon as he made the decision to plan for the game, he fell into it easily, his naturally tactical mind quickly cycling through ideas.

"Now, about the team," he said, and Kay muffled a comical groan. "Any suggestions for finding those new members we need?" he asked, looked at the others sat around the table. Leon ran a hand through his curly blond hair, shaking his head sadly; Kay shrugged, his brow furrowed; Bors, however, looked contemplative.

"There's a couple of guys in one of my tech classes-"

"Computer nerds," Kay scoffed, rolling his eyes and then looking sharply to the side as Bors gave him a light punch on the arm.

"_I_ happen to be a 'computer nerd'," he reminded his friend. Kay rolled his eyes at that and Leon and Arthur fell into easy laughter as the others play-fought on their side of the table.

Sitting there with him mates, having a laugh, things felt like they'd gotten back to normal for Arthur, but he was still curious about someone willing to argue with the football captain for the sake of a physically-useless stranger. It irked him that anyone would challenge him like that, but even he had to admit a grudging respect for someone with those kind of morals. Especially on his first day.

* * *

Merlin awoke to the deceitfully jolly alarm tone of Lance's mobile phone, many hours too early the next morning.

He rolled over, burrowing deeper into the cocoon of blankets in his bed, trying to block out the sounds of Lance's morning routine. But it was a little hard to try and nod off when your roommate was singing along to 80s music at 6a.m. on a Thursday morning.

"Some of us are trying to sleep," Merlin ground out, his voice slow from fatigue and his eyes bleary when he poked his head out from under the covers. Lance was standing beside his bed, pulling on a plain grey t-shirt with his back to Merlin, he turned around and looked more wide-awake than Merlin had felt in his life; and the sun wasn't even fully up yet.

"Sorry mate," Lancelot chuckled, "it's hard to adjust. Not had a roommate in about a month, not since my last one was kicked out."

"What was he kicked out for?" Merlin asked, his curious nature asserting itself even while he was still half-asleep.

"Disorderly misconducted," Lance grinned. "In other words, he brought a couple of girls back to the room – all of them drunk – and while they were having a joint he _somehow_ managed to catch the bed on fire. Campus police kicked him out the next day."

"Yeah," Merlin laughed, giving up the pretence of sleep and allowing himself to wake up fully, "that'll do it." He scrubbed a hand across his face, brushing the sleep from his eyes and running his fingers through his messy bedhead as Lance finished tying the laces of his trainers.

"Alright, I'm going for a run and then I've got classes until two," he said, "we can go for a meal in the mess hall at two thirty if you want? I'll introduce you to a few people, show you the best places on campus?" Lance was still smiling pleasantly, his brown eyes warm and earnest.

Merlin smiled back, relieved to note that Lance apparently wasn't doing it out of pity or a sense of duty, but just because he was that nice a guy. "Two thirty, it is," he agreed. Which meant he had quite a few hours to kill.

Other than checking he was signed up for his classes, he had a few additional things that needed doing: his mother, Hunith, had made a strongly worded suggestion that he go introduce himself to one of his professors before he started the course (apparently Professor Gaius was actually his uncle, though Hunith hadn't been on speaking terms with him for a while); he had an appointment to talk to Headmaster and Dean of the school, Uther Pendragon, at 11a.m.; and he was interested in seeing if there were any clubs worth joining – Merlin had the feeling he'd need as much support as he could at Camden and a few good friends might make all the difference.

Lance agreed with a nod, and then he was out of the room and Merlin was left alone in his new room at an unconscionably early time.

He rolled out of bed, and padded across the room to where his belongings remained mostly unpacked at the foot of the bed. With a sigh and feelings of trepidation, Merlin started unpacking the first box and began thinking about his new life at North Camden College.

* * *

Arthur had never been a patient child, and that particular trait had failed to develop over time.

He could still remember when he was young, perhaps five or six, and so eager to open his Christmas presents that he ransacked the carefully organised parcels under the tree on Christmas eve; suffice to say, his father had not been amused or particularly tolerant.

And although he'd failed to cure his innate impatience, Arthur had become accustomed to fulfilling expectations, so if his father planned on making him wait outside his office for an hour then he'd damn well wait for an hour.

Well. Sort-of.

After precisely thirty-eight minutes, spent sitting silently on the familiar leather chairs in the lounge that served as an antechamber to Uther's main office, Arthur decided that he had better things to do than waste his time twiddling his thumbs in anticipation for Uther's presence. This meeting with his father had meant he was exempt from three hours of his classes – the notes from which he'd probably be spending a majority of the night poring over in his room – but that didn't mean he'd spend half the time doing nothing.

"I'm just going to see if my father's available," Arthur said in an offhand tone as he strode to the ebony door. The diminutive assistant rose half-heartedly to intercept but fell still and silent when Arthur rapped smartly on the wood.

"Enter!" Uther called out in that booming haughty tone of command that had reprimanded Arthur all the way through his childhood – until he learnt better than to get on the wrong side of his irritable grizzly of a parent, that is.

Arthur twisted the metal doorhandle and clicked the door shut behind him, turning neatly to face his face and then walking calmly up to take one of the two leather chairs opposite his father's in the plush office.

Uther's expression was mild yet condescending as he watched his son, elbows propped up on the gleaming mahogany desk, fingers interlocked and pressed lightly over his mouth. To anyone else, he might've looked like he was deep in thought, but Arthur knew him better: he was annoyed, but only mildly so, and the rest of him seemed tolerantly considering; he was waiting for something.

"Hello father," Arthur said, fighting to keep his tone confident yet deferential. "I'm glad you could make time for a meeting."

Uther let out his breath and his eyes narrowed slightly, "Why have you just barged into my office, Arthur?"

"Because you wanted to speak with me?" he asked, eyebrow arched.

"Precisely. So don't you think that if I was ready to speak with you then I would've called you in?"

Arthur hesitated, and then spoke carefully, "I was showing some initiative. You have always taught me that to be kept waiting is a power play to-"

"You will not presume to deduce my actions," Uther said in a voice like bottled thunder and a thousand memories slipped through Arthur's mind: when he first lost a football match and Uther told him that in future he would either win or select a different sport to participate in; when he got his high-school grades, discovered he was only ranked in the fifth highest percentile and they exchanged fewer than ten terse words on the car ride home; when he went on a bender the weekend after his first serious girlfriend broke up with him and Uther's judgement hung over him for months afterwards.

"Yes, father," he said in reflex, his head lowered just a little.

"Now then," Uther went on, brusque and business-like, "I wished to speak to you about the new student." He pushed a file across the desk and Arthur looked down briefly at the page, his gaze flickered absently to the photograph and his eyes went wide open as he recognised the messy dark hair and barely repressed grin. Arthur's head shot upwards and he listened attentively as his father continued. "His name is Merlin Emrys. He's a mathematical genius, apparently. The board has given him a complete scholarship for the duration of his study here. I trust you'll understand what that means."

"Merlin?" Arthur demanded, still boggling over the name. Admittedly, Arthur Pendragon wasn't the most modern thing he'd ever heard, but what were his parents thinking naming him after a medieval wizard? That was just begging for cruel remarks.

"_Yes, _Arthur," Uther ground out, he shook his head slightly, "I acknowledge it is an unusual name, but I expect you to have better manners than to comment on that."

"Of course," he agreed, "but I don't understand why you need to talk about this with me?"

"He's on a scholarship," Uther said again pointedly, "and future students may ask his opinion on the experience when considering whether to apply. I'm certain you can ensure that his time here will be an enjoyable one."

"Wait," Arthur said, holding a finger up as his mind ran ahead of him, "are you telling me to make friends with this guy and keep him happy and content?"

"Not precisely," his father disagreed, "although you are to make certain he has everything he needs while he is here. I don't expect you to become close friends and spend time together, but you shall make sure no student causes any trouble for him and that if he has a requirement for his investigations you will make sure it's fulfilled." Arthur was silent, trying to reconcile the idea of that gangly, insubordinate from the pitch being the prodigy that his father was making him out to be. And that Arthur was some kind of ridiculous care-taker for him now. "Am I understood?"

"Yes, father," Arthur agreed after a slight pause.

"He should be here shortly for a meeting with me. Perhaps you ought to wait and see if he would like a brief tour of the campus while you are here?"

Arthur gritted his teeth and nodded sharply.

"You may go."

* * *

Merlin was going to be late. He knew he was going to be late because it was 11.15 and he was only just rushing his way up the last flight of stairs and along an elegantly decorated corridor to Uther Pendragon's office.

He knocked and the door was promptly opened by a small blonde-haired women with a tight smile. "Come in," she said, "my name is Ruth Sinclair, I am Mr Pendragon's assistant. He'll be with you in a moment, if you wouldn't mind waiting…" she gestured over to a small group of comfortable leather chairs organised around a coffee table on the left of the room; one of which was already taken.

_Of course,_ Merlin thought, mentally hitting himself and wishing for an alternate reality to swallow him up, _of course that self-important ass would have to be there._

He walked over to the chair, carefully monitoring his pace with the result that he tripped over some non-existent lump in the carpet and half-fell into a chair. Merlin sank back into the chair and finally turned his attention to the broad-shouldered, blue-eyed, blonde-haired son of the headmaster.

Arthur was leaning back in his chair, a self-satisfied smile on his face, his limbs arranged with a grace that Merlin had never been gifted with.

He wanted to say something, make some witty quip about getting into the college on talent alone, but he didn't particularly want to anger such an important student more than he already had.

Instead Merlin did his best to ignore the smug bastard while he waited for his meeting.

There was a buzz from the assistant's desk and then Ruth addressed him, "Uther will see you now. Go on through."

Merlin stood up, brushing his hands down his blue button-down shirt and newest pair of jeans, suddenly struck by the feeling that he was dressed far too casually for this conversation, before walking over to the door and stepped into the luxurious office.

The entire right wall was trophy cabinets and bookshelves, the far was a bay window that framed Uther and his magnificent desk with bright midday sunlight, and on the left was a leather sofa and a couple of matching armchairs. The carpet was pristine and looked vaguely antique.

He traversed the room and took one of the two available chairs when he was gestured to.

"Hello Mr Emrys," Uther said and Merlin was struck immediately by how commanding his voice was. No doubt this was a man who'd fought for everything he'd got in life and damn well expected to be respected for it. Merlin gulped in a quick breath and decided he didn't want to make this man angry.

"It's good to meet you, Mr Pendragon," he said nervously in return. "I was surprised that you wanted to talk to me so soon."

"Of course," the elder said, with a slightly forced smile, "we at North Camden College will endeavour to cater to your needs. I hope the campus is to your liking?"

"It's certainly big," Merlin agreed, "and, uh, very impressive. Everyone seems very nice…" he trailed off with the distinct feeling he was just embarrassing himself more with every word.

"Well, yes. Now, I hear you will be studying under the tutelage of Professor Gaius?" Uther asked and Merlin made a hurried nod. "Good. We expect great things from you, Emrys, so it goes without saying that if you require something you need only ask."

"T-thank you, sir."

"Feel free to arrange a meeting if anything of importance arises," Uther told him, and it sounded like a dismissal even to Merlin's thoroughly informal mind.

"Yes, sir. Thanks again for, well, everything."

"Very good," Uther nodded once and then his attention was on the papers on his desk. He began writing, not even looking up as Merlin stood from his seat and retreated from the room. As soon as the door was shut behind him he let out a harried breath and felt his tense muscles relax. At the sound of a muffled laugh he lifted his gaze to where Arthur had a hand over his lower jaw in an attempt to hide his grin.

A wave of annoyance swept over Merlin, "Thanks for your help," he said to Ruth and she smiled at him appreciatively as he exited the room and set off down the corridor.

"Hey, wait up," Arthur called and Merlin paused despite himself, half-turning.

"What do you want?" Merlin asked him, a little tersely.

Arthur looked, if possible, even more amused, and also faintly taken aback, "You're new, I thought you'd want a tour-"

"My answer is no," Merlin cut in, walking down the hallway again, a little concerned about how Arthur would take his instant refusal.

"No?" Arthur demanded.

"No," Merlin clarified.

_Just. Go. Away_. Merlin all but said aloud, impatient to be away from the self-important ass keeping pace with him as they descending the stairs.

"Why?" Arthur said in that same haughty, confident yet irate tone of his.

"Because," Merlin said, stopping and facing Arthur with a small smile, "you're either doing it because you are attempting to trick me and therein humiliate the new boy, or your dad has given you some order to try and create an understanding between us to make me happy." He paused, seeing surprise flit across Arthur's (extremely, incredibly, unfairly) blue eyes. With a sense of triumph, Merlin gave a more natural smile, "And I assure you, I am both perfectly capable of making my own friends and of finding a willing guide to show me the school. So, if you wouldn't mind…"

"Oh, believe me," Arthur said, his voice insulted and annoyed, "it would be my utter pleasure to never speak to you again."

"The feeling's mutual," Merlin offered.

Arthur twisted on the heel of his shoe and walked quickly down the ground-floor hallway, his retreating figure confident with head held high and arms not rigid but swinging loosely by his sides.

Merlin resigned himself to a growing chasm of dislike growing between them and set off in the opposite direction, hoping that his vague understanding of the site map meant he was heading towards Professor Gaius's classroom and not getting himself hopelessly lost instead.


	3. Chapter 3: Coping Mechanisms

Professor Gaius Wilson was not quite what Merlin was expecting from a long-lost uncle.

For one, he looked old enough to be his great-uncle – what with the pure white hair and somewhat lined face – but clearly age hadn't addled his mind any, because as soon as the heavy wooden door swung open to reveal him Merlin knew he wouldn't be getting any free passes from his coursework; nor any allowances owing to their relation.

"Ah, Merlin?" the older man asked, one brow shifting upwards ever so slightly as he took in the slim, dark-haired boy standing outside. From the way those pale blue eyes observed him, Merlin almost thought he was being x-rayed. "Come in, come in," he said, ushering Merlin inside as he moved back from the doorway.

Inside was like a cross between a medieval castle and a high-tech laboratory. The benches were mostly heavy and wooden, marked, burned and scored with scratches, with a line of shiny, metal counters against the right wall. The entire left wall, however, was covered floor to ceiling with bookshelves, filled with literature ranging from old tomes to glossy new paperbacks to assorted sheafs of wrinkled paper. It was rather like some from a bibliophile's daydream.

But Merlin, however much he enjoyed reading when he had chance, was immediately drawn to the innumerable assortments of scientific equipment strewn across the benches, piled – precariously high in some places – in every available space. Some of it was in use, and Merlin was gratified to discover that he couldn't figure out a damn thing about what Gaius was supposed to be investigating; at least this professor wouldn't struggle to challenge his intellect.

"Uh, hello," Merlin said, turning back to Gaius with a growing grin of wonder, "your lab is..." he trailed off, at a loss for words.

"Yes, I'm sure you have an impressive vocabulary, but I can assure you you're not the first to be struck dumb by my quarters," Gaius commented in a cordial tone. "Now, first things first, how is my dear sister holding up out there?" His smile turned a bit wry, "I used to fret about her off in the Welsh countryside, but Hunith never was one for the bustle of the city."

"Yeah, mum's great," Merlin said, but he couldn't hide the slight dimming of his smile. It was only at his mother's insistence that he'd even left Ealdor; his worry of leaving her outweighing his desire for a higher education. But Hunith, the sweet, selfless, loving mother she was, had utterly usurped his plans for a quiet life. And now he was in the environment he'd always longed for – but that didn't mean he didn't miss her.

"Homesick already?" Gaius asked him gently.

"Not exactly," Merlin told him honestly, "I've just never been away from home for so long. And it's not like she's got anyone much around to keep her company…"

"Oh, I wouldn't worry, boy," Gaius said, "your mother always was a resilient woman, I'm sure she can handle the solitude." He moved past, wandering up and down the tables, making minute adjustments here or there, pausing to glance at an unfurled roll of parchment that looked like it could be centuries old.

"So…what're you doing?" Merlin couldn't refrain from asking.

Gaius looked up, his blue eyes glittering over a slowly steaming beaker containing a murky, darkening substance, "I'm glad you asked that question. If you're ready then…Shall we begin?"

* * *

Training didn't start until 2p.m.

Usually, that would've been great; it would've meant Arthur had an hour of extra time in which to study or relax – perhaps even call back that pretty blonde from the previous night… – but he just couldn't.

Arthur was still aggravated by the bane of his life that was Merlin Emrys - never mind that he'd only been at the damn college for two days and they'd shared a lowly total of two brief conversations thus far.

But, however petty Arthur's annoyance might've seemed, when Arthur was angry he got tense, and when he got tense he had to turn to other outlets to relieve that stress, which lessened his options for his remaining hour considerably.

After an hour and a half of diligently studying for his classes (while simultaneously trying to block from his memory the sorry exchange from outside his father's office) he was at the end of his tether. So, as any self-respecting Pendragon would do, he got dressed in his simplest fitness attire and went out for a jog rather than attempt further repression or risk making an idiotic show of himself in public – which was inevitable if he let this annoyance build up.

After all, the name Pendragon had a certain veneration about it and Arthur would be damned if he would let any outburst on his part drag that name through the mud.

"Jesus, Arthur," Bors panted, doubled over with his head between his knees as he noisily sucked in as much air as his heavily taxed lungs could manage, "do you think we could slow the pace down a little?"

That, it seemed, was the general consensus from the rest of the team, too.

"If I can manage it," he snapped in reply, "then so can you."

It wasn't that Arthur didn't understand their complaints, he _had_ been pushing them particularly hard in the training that day: starting with laps, then drills until their legs ached, and only a two minute respite before getting them to practise their striking and defending. Nonetheless, much like his father, when Arthur was vexed about something he had a tendency of pushing that negativity onto other people. It was just his team's bad luck that they were most readily available.

Training readily developed into a game of endurance, with Daniel, Ector and Lionel dropping out within the next fifteen minutes. Joseph and Tor managed a scant five minutes more than that. And then the rest of the team quickly came to the consensus of: Fuck This, Arthur's Lost His Marbles, and promptly left. Except for Leon, Kay and Bors, loyal as ever and unwilling to ignore the fact Arthur had turned his captaincy into a dictatorship.

"Arthur," Kay said, after sharing a brief look with the others, "you seriously either need to get drunk or get laid."

Leon stared at Kay, his slowly shaking head and quiet sigh the only comment on Kay's prognosis. He turned to Arthur, stepping forward into the invisible bubble of Arthur's personal space and rested a hand on Arthur's shoulder. "Mate, what's got you all worked up? I mean, I get that we're a bit behind and some of the lads need to pull their weight, but this is ridiculous."

"It's nothing," Arthur replied, stepping back with an annoyed huff of breath, "Kay's right, I just need a drink."

"I also said you ought to get laid," Kay piped in. This time they just ignored him.

"Third night in a row?" Leon said, brow arched, but Arthur knew he'd still go with them. And true to form, Leon didn't push, he simply said, "As long as we go grab something to eat first," in such a way that Arthur knew it wasn't a request.

To which Arthur responded with a half-shrug and a crooked grin, as if to reassure his friend that he wasn't a budding alcoholic, just young and bored.

In truth, he admitted, even if only to himself, this growing need to let off some steam in the pub might've had _something_ to do with a certain dark-haired idiot's constantly dismissive behaviour towards him – as though Arthur James Pendragon wasn't the most popular, attractive and affluent student in the school; as though Merlin simply didn't _care_.

* * *

"I think we've made good progress today," Gaius said, his soft tone breaking Merlin's concentration from the pages spread out before him.

He lifted his head finally, realising his vision had gone slightly blurred from so much reading and his spine ached from being bent over a desk for… Merlin glanced at his watch, not quite believing that they'd spent the best part of three hours going through only the basics of what Gaius planned on teaching him in the coming months.

Working with someone like Professor Gaius, he realised, was just what he needed: someone very much superior in their knowledge so that he wouldn't get big-headed or pre-emptively sure of himself. Honestly, at times during their working he'd felt like he'd wandered into the wrong classroom, the ideas were so convoluted.

"Don't you have anywhere you need to be, lad?" Gaius asked, still pottering about the room, putting things back in place without any discernible system other than personal preference. "I'm not trying to get rid of you, but…?"

"Not really, I-" he cut himself off, looking back down at his watch and then jumping out of his seat with a start and gathering his jacket and satchel from the floor by the wall. "I was supposed to meet Lance in the mess hall eight minutes ago," he called out by way of explanation, "I'll be back at ten o'clock tomorrow morning. See you, Gaius!"

"Don't be late!" Gaius called after half-heartedly, already having come to the conclusion that Merlin's sense of time-keeping wasn't nearly as good as his scientific ability.

* * *

"Jeez, Lance," Merlin gasped, after rushing into the hall and desperately scanning for a familiar face. He dropped onto a chair beside his roommate and finally took a deep breath. "I lost track of time with Gaius and-"

"It's fine," Lancelot assured him, smirking as Merlin ran his fingers through his messy hair and finally took a look around the room.

It was quite big, with three different types of food available: classic café style, with stuff like all-day breakfasts and toasted sandwiches; full meals with fresh meats and an assortment of cooked vegetables, etc.; and a self-serve salad bar come sandwich selection. The rest of the room was full of circular tables surrounded by reasonably nice plastic chairs.

Lance, he noticed, had been sitting alone before he arrived, picking at a plate of pasta as he waited. Noting that Merlin had finished looking around, he smiled and said, "My friends, Michael and Rose, aren't coming. They forgot about some pop quiz this week and their main lecturer was offering an extra lesson for note-taking so they had to cancel. So I guess it's just you and I."

"That's fine with me," Merlin agreed honestly. His former trepidation about making friends had resurfaced with the idea of meeting Lance's, although he had to admit he was pleased that Lancelot himself was a nice enough guy to want to spend time with him.

"So, who've you talked to so far?" Lance asked conversationally as he pierced another few pieces of ravioli.

"Well, there's you…I had my meeting with Uther Pendragon…spent a few hours working with Gaius…"

"Anyone who doesn't work here?" Lance grinned amusedly.

"There was one guy. Arthur Pendragon?"

"Seriously?" Lance said, brows rising in surprise. He chewed thoughtfully for a minute and then shook his head, still smiling, "I've heard a lot of things about Arthur, all of them second-hand. Some say he's a saint and some say he's just another posh prick. What do you reckon?"

Merlin laughed at that, gratified to find that he wasn't the only one who didn't immediately love the campus's golden boy. "Yeah, well, the only times I spoke to him we argued, so I guess we wouldn't get on very well."

"That right? I guess he must be a bit of a tosser then," Lance smirked, "you seem like a pretty alright guy, Merlin. How come you didn't get on with him them?"

"He was messing around some guy on the pitch," Merlin muttered, sullen at the memory, "just generally being a bit of a bully. I guess some sports captains are just like that, but what're you meant to do? Just stand back and let them pick on random people?"

Lance looked at him like he'd done something particularly interesting. "I'll admit, you didn't strike me as the 'righteous defender of the weak' sort of guy."

"I just don't like people who try and cause trouble for people weaker than them," he replied. "I know what that's like – believe me – and no one should have to, especially in college." On this topic, at least, he could speak from experience; kids can be cruel and some adults aren't much better.

"Alright," Lance said, his tone forcefully bright, "what do you say we grab you something to go and I show you around the campus. Maybe later we can head into town, too? Grab a drink or something?"

"Sure," Merlin agreed, cheered by the prospect of company, "where to first?"

* * *

"What's that, your third? Fourth?" Bors grinned. He pushed his outgrowing light-brown hair back from his forehead and then looked back down to the cards in his hands.

"So what?" Arthur replied, supping again from the drink in question. It had taken a pint and half an hour of light banter before Arthur even relaxed enough to partake in the chatter, but once he'd drank a bit more and subjected himself to the usual jibes from his mates, he was finally back to his smug, smirking self as they finished yet another round of cards.

"This is practically robbery," Bors told him.

"It's definitely immoral," Kay agreed.

"It's easier than stealing candy from a baby."

"It's like stealing candy from a whinging, drunk baby," Kay grinned, and they fell into another bout of laughter.

"And yet I win _again_," Arthur said as he presented his hand and watched their laughter drop off comically fast. He was still grinning broadly as he swept the small collection of cash over to his corner of the table.

"No fair!" Kay argued, "He must've cheated!"

"Yeah, no one's that good when they've had a much as him!"

"What can I say?" he chuckled at his outraged companions, "It's not my fault you can't hold your alcohol. Speaking of which…" he looked at the mostly empty glasses on the table, "which of you guys wants another? This round is on me," he grabbed the few scrunched up notes and smattering of coins, "courtesy of my generous companions."

"I'll have one," Leon said.

"Who am I to turn down free booze?" Kay asked his, eyes wide.

"Seconded!" Bors called in accord.

Arthur rolled his eyes, "Why'd I even bother asking?" he turned and walked over to the bar, just as Bors dealt them in for another quick round.

He slid onto a stool by the counter, watching at the two servers behind the counter moved in tandem to get drinks out quickly.

"Two beers, please."

Arthur looked over, aghast. Not again. _Jesus Christ_. It was like the damned guy was following him around or something (although, yes, admittedly, Arthur had been there first that second time, but nonetheless…).

He kept his eyes fixed on the rows of upside-down bottles behind the bar, internally changing his order from another pint to some whisky. Apparently Merlin's arrival merited some hard liquor – maybe he ought to review the Merlin equals alcoholism thing, after all.

* * *

"So, do many students come in here?" Merlin asked Lance as they slid into a booth towards the back where the sound of the jukebox was dulled somewhat.

"Yeah, it's pretty popular since it's so close to the college," Lance told him, drinking a large mouthful of beer and looking across the room. From the way he was eyeing a couple of the girls, Merlin doubted he was dating anyone.

"Do you come here often?" Merlin asked, his conversational pool running dry already; it did not bode well for the future of the evening.

"Not really," Lance admitted, "I'm not much of a drinker."

"You don't drink, you don't spoke, you're not a complete dick," Merlin chuckled, "so what is your shortcoming?"

"Me?" Lance smirked, an eyebrow arching incredulously, "I don't have one, my good friend. I am as close to a knight in shining armour that you will find." And, well, yeah, Merlin could sort of picture Lancelot at being the type. Maybe it's just a case of him growing into his name, but from the classic handsomeness of his features, the effortless charm and the general air about him, he does seem like some knight out of a history book.

"Then why're you still single?" Merlin asked, grinning at Lance's dumbfounded expression.

"How'd you guess?" he asked, faking disappointment as he looked away dramatically.

"I doubt you'd be checking out the clientèle in here if you had a girlfriend."

"You're right," Lance agreed, he nodded, expression more serious then, "I'm waiting for the right girl. I know it's a little cliché, but I just have this notion that one day I'll find the woman of my dreams and I'd rather not be romantically entangled when I do."

"That's not cliché," Merlin reassured him, "I'm sure you'll find her one day."

"Yeah, so am I," he said softly, and then his eyes lifted and he gestured to Merlin with a sweep of his hand, "What about you? Got a girlfriend?"

He couldn't hold back a burst of laughter at that, "Me?" he asked, "I had a girlfriend once – Freya – she was absolutely gorgeous, lovely, the whole package…" he shook his head as if to cast away the memory, "anyway, it didn't work out."

"You're not still moping over her, are you?" Lance prodded, entirely too amused by the prospect of Merlin's failing love life.

"Hardly," he replied, "I just happened to realise that I am quite definitely gay."

Lance's eyebrows shot up and he laughed again, "Seriously, man? Fair enough."

"You don't care? It won't bother you that your room-mate's gay?" he clarified, because yes, having a name like Merlin wasn't easy, but have a name like Merlin and coming out as gay had been a damn sight worse. It wasn't hard to imagine the countless variations of childish nicknames he'd been given. And he knew not everyone could be as accepting as his mother.

"Of course not," Lance told him sincerely, "Seriously, your sexual preference is the last thing I'd be worried about."

"Glad to hear it," Merlin agreed.

"Right, well, I'm about ready to head out if you are?" Lance asked.

"Let's go then. I've got more lessons with Gaius in the morning; better not stay up too late."

* * *

Arthur was drunk. Not quite stagger-around-like-a-walking-embarrassment drunk, but precariously close to the slurring-his-words-and-hitting-on-everything-with- a-heartbeat stage.

Kay had opted to stay behind, his gaze on a gorgeous brunette far out of his league, leaving Leon, Bors and Arthur to head back to the college, all quite beyond tipsy.

Which is why he didn't notice the car until it was heading straight for him.

* * *

"Hey, Merlin," Lance said urgently, "does it look like that woman's-"

"About to run those guys over?"

"Yeah."

"Shit."

Lance and Merlin barrelled towards the three guys, suddenly glad to have cut the night's drinking short. The car was dangerously close; another couple of seconds and it'd be too late. Merlin could see Lance half a step ahead as he dived for the two men closest to him, leaving Merlin to run straight at the final one.

But speed had never been his strong suit. He wasn't going to make it.

Which is why he couldn't help it when his magic took that opportunity to freeze time.


	4. Chapter 4: Automatic Reactions

Merlin had had magic from as long as he could remember.

According to his mother he'd been using it since before he could walk – and apparently it'd been hell trying to convince a toddler that levitating his toys was not a 'normal' thing to do. In fact, he'd been seven before he could more or less repress his magic, so until that point Hunith had been doing her best to home-school him.

His first day of primary school was awful.

On the surface, he was an ordinary child, a little shy perhaps from such little exposure to others, but well-meaning and absorbed in the world around him. But children can pick the worst times to be astute, and it was obvious from the start that he was different – other – and so they wanted nothing to do with him. Why would they?

But Merlin was quite used to solitude. His mother had been attentive, but she had her own responsibilities, and she could hardly stay with him constantly.

It had been beginning to look like he would never be happy there, and the temptation to ask to be home-schooled again was one he considered often.

Ironically, if it wasn't for his magic, Merlin probably never would've made friends with Will.

It was a Saturday afternoon and Merlin was relaxing in the fields at the back of his house, a few favourite books resting nearby and his eyes shut as he lay back and soaked in the sun.

Before he knew what was happening, he heard faint yelling coming closer. He sat up and saw William running madly towards him from the other end of the field. They'd never spoken, but Merlin knew him from school, the boy had a strong dislike for authority figures, especially teachers, and he was the self-appointed class clown; able to make a joke out of anything.

"Run, Merlin!" Will yelled at him, and for some reason neither of them could fathom, he gathered up his books and fell into step beside Will as he ran. Glancing over his shoulder, Merlin could see who they were running from: Farmer Ferris, a grouchy old man who owned the land next to Merlin's. From the angry twist of his expression and the speed of his pursuit, Merlin was willing to bet Will had been trespassing.

"What did you do?" Merlin gasped, he led Will around the side of his house and towards the copse of trees to the right.

"I was only messing around," Will replied, "I didn't mean for the chickens to get loose."

Merlin let out a startled burst of laughter, sharing wide grins with Will as he reached the trees. Farmer Ferris wasn't far behind, bursting into the trees with a face like thunder.

There was no way they could get away from him indefinitely, they were seven and he was an angry old man with no patience left for childish fun.

"Get behind that tree!" Merlin whispered, rushing behind one of the bigger oaks. He peered out from behind and in his excitement he forgot to keep that careful restraint on his magic. With eyes glowing an unnatural gold, he watched as his magic moved into the tree roots, the ones in front of the farmer lifting up and tripped him. Will could barely restrain his laughter as the farmer angrily picked himself back up before tripping over again almost immediately.

"Damn kids," he muttered after being tripped for three consecutive steps. With his fists bunched and his eyes narrowed, he turned around and marched away. Grumbling to himself as he hurried off back towards his own farm, but completely unaware of Merlin's intervention.

"How did you _do_ that?" Will demanded, rushing over to Merlin and grabbing him by the shoulders, his blue eyes wide.

"I didn't- uh- I-" Merlin mumbled, terrified. His mother had warned him and warned him what would happen if people found out.

"I promise I won't ever tell anyone," Will told him with a small sincere smile, "we're friends now, right? And friends don't tell each other's secrets."

"We're friends?" Merlin asked, his tone cautious.

"Of course!" Will grinned. "I can tell we'll get on."

"Well…I have magic," he admitted in a quiet rush, all too willing to finally have someone to confide in.

"Woah," Will breathed, "Seriously?"

"Yeah."

"That is _awesome_," he grinned broadly, "I won't tell anyone. Promise."

He held out his pinkie finger, and Merlin slowly did the same.

Will smiled as their fingers twisted together, "Mates?"

"Mates," Merlin agreed, smiling back and feeling hopeful for the first time.

* * *

Merlin had only ever frozen time once before – when his mother was rushing around getting ready one morning and she tripped at the top of the stairs, he hadn't even had time to think, he'd just let him magic out long enough to stop her falling, freezing her in mid-air, and then hurried up the stairs to move her back to safe footing before letting time resume – and he wasn't sure it was something he could control.

But, in the split second between doing it and realising what he had done, he was glad.

The world around him was frozen, Arthur was there, barely two metres from the speeding car, his wide-eyes staring at the vehicle's approach. Lance was on the floor with the two others, sprawled on the pavement. No one was looking at Merlin.

He hurried forward a few steps and then let his magic release it's hold, barrelling into Arthur the next moment and sending them both to the ground.

The car sped on and slammed into the side of the building nearby with a horrendous noise.

"What the-?" Arthur gasped, and Merlin realised he had fallen across him as they landed. He threw himself backwards to sit beside him on the pavement beside Arthur, noting they were on the other side of the car from the others. He pulled in quick breaths as the residual adrenaline pumped through his body and left fine tremors across his hands.

"Are you okay?" Merlin asked, pressing a hand to his own chest to feel his gradually slowing heartbeat.

"Yeah, I- _Merlin_?" Arthur demanded, his expression, if possible, turned even more incredulous. "What the hell is going on?"

"I just saved your life," Merlin snapped back, "you could be a little more grateful." He pushed himself to his feet, hurrying around the back of the car to where Lance and the two others were getting to their feet.

"Is Arthur…?" Lance asked.

"He's fine," Merlin replied rolling his eyes, "same stupid prat as before."

One of the men laughed, and Merlin looked over to them. "Hey, I'm-"

"You're Merlin," the shorter of the two said, smirking, "Yeah, Arthur mentioned you." Merlin's eyebrows rose in disbelief and the other man snorted another laugh.

"Complained about you is more like it," he chuckled. In Merlin's opinion, both of them seemed entirely too calm considering they'd nearly been hit by a car.

"My name's Bors, that's Kay," the first man said, "we're friends of Arthur's. Listen, thanks you two, that was…yeah."

"No problem," Lance replied, smiling, with a glance at Merlin as if to say 'they're not so bad'.

"What about the driver?" Kay asked, and then everyone was moving over to the wrecked car.

The front bonnet was buckled and the windscreen was smashed, but the driver didn't appear to have any major injuries – well, she didn't seem to be bleeding anywhere other than a cut on her lip where she'd no doubt bitten through it. And as they watched her eyes blinked open and she looked around herself, disorientated.

"Hello Mary," Arthur said. He was standing on the other side of the car by the driver's side.

"Arthur," the woman, Mary, hissed, her face distraught.

"You know each other?" Merlin asked incredulously, but no one responded.

"I believe that constitutes attempted murder," Arthur told her, a scary calm pervading his expression and voice.

"Fuck you," she replied, her eyes brimming with tears, slumping forward in her seat to rest against the deflated airbag in front of her.

"I'll drop the charges," he said after a moment, ignoring the indignant arguments of Kay and Bors behind him, "if you stay away from me. Mary, if anything like this ever happens again, I'll call the police and they'll lock you up. Do you understand?"

"Leave me alone, Pendragon," she sobbed quietly.

Arthur sighed, walking around the back of the car to the others.

Kay and Bors just seemed glad that their friend was alive and they greeted him with jovial grins, but Merlin and Lancelot stood a little way back regarded him cautiously.

"Thank you," Arthur said, his tone slightly grudging, he looked up at them, gaze flicking between them and then resting on Lance, Merlin tried to hide his indignation at that – after all, _he_ was the one who saved Arthur's life – but no doubt failed. "You two can go, if you like." Bors was already on the phone to the emergency services, asking for an ambulance for Mary.

"Sure," Lance agreed, noting Merlin's annoyance, "I guess we'll see you guys at Camden. Try not to get yourselves killed," he shot them a wry grin and kept Merlin a step in front of him as they walked away from the scene.

"Jesus Christ," Merlin muttered as they walked back, "what the hell is up with that guy?"

"Who? Arthur?"

"_Yes_, Arthur," Merlin snapped back, "I mean, it's not like I just saved his life or anything. He could've at least pretended to appreciate it."

"Forget him, Merlin," Lance suggested, "maybe if you're lucky you'll get a reward or something."

"I didn't do it for a reward," Merlin sighed, "but it'd be nice if he could be a little less hostile."

"Really, Merlin. Just forget about it? Alright?"

Merlin let out a long sigh. "Yeah. Yeah, okay."

* * *

Arthur would be lying if he said he was surprised to find his attempted murderer was Mary Myles, not that he thought she was capable of such violence, but if anyone was going to try and run him over it'd be her.

They'd dated for a month or two, gotten on great, it'd seemed like things were going well, and then she suggested Arthur let her brother Thomas join the football team. From the half-pleading look in her eyes, he'd guessed Thomas must've wanted to join pretty badly, and Arthur always had been a sucker for the people he cared about.

"Of course," he told her, and she gave him a deep relieved kiss, "but he'll have to try out first," he added, she frowned as she pulled back. "Everyone has to try out, Mary, I can't just let him on the team because he's your brother, that wouldn't be fair." She huffed but let it go when he gave her another kiss.

It was a few days later, when Thomas tried out, that things started going downhill.

First of all, the kid sucked. He couldn't kick a ball in a straight line, lacked any sort of communication skills and seemed determined to doing everything himself. There was no way in hell Arthur would've let him join after that performance, a fact he conveyed in no uncertain terms.

"But Mary said you'd let me join!" Thomas snapped back, angrily. "She said you'd promised."

"I did no such thing," Arthur said, mildly amused by his reaction.

"You're such a snob," Thomas spat at him as he stormed away.

It was less than a week after that when Arthur returned to his room one evening to find the place had been totally trashed. A note was left of his dresser: Let me join or I'll make your life hell –Thomas.

Arthur could hardly believe the boy's stupidity.

He called up campus police, and they came over. One look at the trashed room and the note (that Thomas had damn well signed, as if they needed more proof) and Thomas was banned from the university.

Mary had been furious. She'd broken up with him that same night and threatened all sorts of things against him.

Arthur hadn't really expected her to do anything though.

It was only because of their past that he didn't call the police. He knew she was emotionally fraught, Thomas must've been devastated to be thrown out of one of the best universities in the country, and that meant he could excuse her actions this one time. He meant what he said though; if she did anything else then he'd make sure she was held accountable.

"You alright, Arthur?" Bors asked once he was finished on the phone.

"Yeah, fine," Arthur replied, although he honestly wasn't. As if nearly getting run over by an angry ex wasn't bad enough, of _course_ it had to be Merlin that saved him. He'd thought he was fixedly against Merlin, that he could start to hate the self-righteous idiot, but now all that was mixed up with gratitude and relief – and disbelief – that he'd saved his life. How was he supposed to act now? He owed Merlin his life, whether he liked it or not, and surely that demanded a truce between them.

Arthur honestly didn't know. It wasn't a feeling he much liked.

"That was a close one, eh?" Kay chuckled. "You got any other angry exes stashed away about to try and kill us?"

"Thankfully, not," Arthur replied.

Finally they heard the wail of the ambulance and the flash of its lights as it approached.

"Let's just sort this mess out so I can get some sleep."

* * *

Arthur woke up to the shrill ring of his mobile. The tone seemed to reverberate in his skull, as if to throw his hangover into sharper relief.

"What is it?" Arthur groaned into the receiver.

"Arthur."

At once Uther's stiff tone caught his attention, and he cleared his throat and sat upright in surprise. "Father. What is it?" He glanced at his clock to learn it was already 8.30am, though his lie-in could no doubt be excused by the stressful events of the previous night.

"I have been informed that Mary Myles tried to run you over in her car last night."

"Don't throw her out, father," Arthur demanded immediately, "she was confused and angry and-"

"It has already been done," Uther replied, his tone cutting, allowing for no argument. "When were you going to tell me?"

"When I woke up?" Arthur suggested as he was rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"You were asleep," Uther stated after a moment.

"Yes, I was. Is there something I can help you with father?"

"I've arranged a meeting for ten o'clock this morning. You will be there."

"Yes, father," he agreed, too distracted by his own needs to be paying much attention; his mouth tasted revolting and he knew he needed something to eat and drink before attempting any other sort of interaction with anyone.

"Is that all, father?...Father?" It took a moment for him to realise that Uther had already hung up.

* * *

Merlin was late. That of itself was normal enough. But now Merlin was late for his second lesson with Professor Gaius, and he knew that couldn't be a good thing.

He burst into Gaius's workshop, out of breath with his satchel slipping off his shoulder and his hair still a messy bedhead.

"Sorry I'm late," Merlin said immediately. He had to blink a couple of times before realising that the figure standing next to Gaius was, in fact, a real person and not a figment of his imagination.

Gaius and his visitor turned to Merlin. The visitor was young, no doubt another student, and she was uncommonly pretty. Her smile was small and amused as she looked him over, and he took the opportunity to do the same to her.

She had curly brown hair done up in a neat bun, with a few loose strands hanging down around her face. Her brown eyes look warm and kind and everything about her seemed nice and welcoming. She was wearing a red blouse with faded jeans, and stood angled slightly towards Gaius like they'd been talking, before Merlin's entrance.

"Speak of the devil," Gaius chuckled, "Guinevere, this is the new student I was just telling you about; Merlin. Merlin, meet Guinevere."

"Gwen," she said, walking forward and offering him her hand. He took it and shook quickly, running a hand across his messy hair in an attempt to flatten it afterwards.

"Nice to meet you," he said, smiling broadly, "are you another one of Gaius's students?"

"Gaius doesn't have any other students," she told him, rolling her eyes, "so I was a little surprised when I found out he'd be teaching you."

"Indeed, Gwen is very helpful, and I'd have been lucky to teach her. But, alas, her interest is in the arts, not much for science. I sometimes have her help out with my experiments," Gaius regarded her affectionately, seeming somewhat like a proud father.

"Well, I'm sure it'll be nice having you around," Merlin told her honestly, "Professor Gaius can be a little…" he trailed off as the man in question arched one white eyebrow in warning. "Well," he amended, as Gwen smirked, "I'm sure you know him better than me."

"Quite," she agreed, turning back to Gaius, "I've got another lecture to get to in twenty minutes, so I better be going." She turned to Merlin, "I'm sure I'll see you around."

"I hope so," Merlin replied and she beamed at him pleasantly, a slight blush rising across his cheeks. And then she grabbed a coat from the rack by the door and left, calling out a cheerful goodbye over her shoulder. "Gwen seems nice," Merlin remarked, following Gaius over to one of the crowded worktops.

"You won't distract me that easily," Gaius told him, stern but amused, "why were you late?"

"There was a bit of an incident last night," Merlin shrugged, "Lance and I got back pretty late so I guess I slept in a bit."

"What sort of incident?" Gaius demanded, turning to face him head-on.

"It was-"

"Did you use your magic?" Gaius asked him, as though it was the most normal thing in the world. Merlin couldn't stop himself from gaping. "Of course I know about your magic, you idiot boy, your mother told me all about it."

"What? But-"

"Don't deny it," Gaius told him warningly, "you might be able to fool all those oblivious people outside, but I know everything that goes on in my workshop. So? Did you use your magic?"

"Well, yes, but-"

"You're not supposed to use it in public!" Gaius berated him.

"I was saving someone's life!" Merlin told him, slightly ticked off. "I couldn't help it. Sometimes it just…happens," he shrugged helplessly.

"You didn't use an incantation?" Gaius asked cautiously.

"You mean like a spell?" Merlin returned incredulously. "No. I don't know any spells. I didn't even know they _existed_."

"Your magic is entirely natural ability?"

"Yeah," Merlin admitted, "I can use it sometimes, but usually it just happens when I lose control and forget to stop it."

"So what did you do last night?"

"Well, Lance and I were walking home from the pub, and this woman tried to run over Arthur and his mates. We tried to get there in time but I would've been too late and she'd have hit Arthur so I…uh, I froze time for, like, a second and-"

"Impossible," Gaius said, but his eyes were already wide with wonder.

"What's impossible?" Merlin asked curiously.

"Freezing time."

"No it isn't," Merlin corrected, "I did it before, a few years ago when mum nearly fell down the stairs."

Gaius said nothing, but he walked over to one of the comfier chairs and sat down. "You better take a seat, lad, and tell me everything you know about this magic of yours."

* * *

Merlin, for once, wasn't running late. Nor was he lost, incapacitated, or exhausted. He was on his way to Uther's office after being informed, by a way of a messenger arriving at Gaius's workshop, that he had a meeting with Uther at ten o'clock that morning.

And, after a brief moment of thought, he was pretty sure he knew why.

He arrived at the office and entered into the waiting room, sparing a quick smile for the pleasant receptionist. Lancelot was already sat there, seeming cautious and bemused.

"Merlin," Lance greeted him, glancing up at the clock on the wall: 9.56am, "you're early."

Merlin laughed, dropping into the seat next to his, after a moment he couldn't resist inquiring, "Do you know why we're here?"

"I guess it'll be about last night," Lance shrugged.

"Yeah, but why would they want to talk to us?"

"I don't know, Merlin," Lance told him tolerantly, "but if you're patient, maybe we'll find out in a minute."

A few seconds after, Ruth called out that they could enter, and with a shared smirk, they two lads entered Uther's office, all trepidation buried beneath a careful layer of self-confidence.


	5. Chapter 5: Unwelcome Reparations

The fact Merlin had been in Uther Pendragon's office before did nothing to negate the obligatory intimidation experienced at the sight of the chilling, silver-haired dean seated behind his gleaming mahogany desk - nor did the fact he'd helped to save said man's son the night before. That, to Merlin, spoke volumes about the sort of atmosphere that surrounded Uther Pendragon.

"Ah," the man in question said upon their intrusion into the room, "come; take a seat."

So distracted was Merlin, that he didn't even notice Arthur was also in the room until he saw a lean figure rising in his peripheral vision and heard Arthur's measured steps as he the room to lean his hip against Uther's desk, half facing Merlin and Lance, half facing his father.

There was a heavy silence, during which the senior Pendragon surveyed them with careful concentration and Merlin tried to bury down any feelings of nervousness the perusal brought on.

"Good morning, Mr Emrys, Mr du Lac." He nodded to each of them in turn. "I trust you've enjoyed your first few days here?" Uther asked, and Merlin could easily infer from his tone that there was a right and a wrong answer to the question.

"Yes, definitely. People have been very nice, and…uh…accommodating," Merlin managed, his tongue tripping up as he caught sight of Lance smirking at his discomfort. He looked quickly back at Uther, trying to at least seem deferent.

"And what of Professor Wilson?" Uther's blue-grey eyes betrayed no emotion.

"He's brilliant," Merlin said sincerely, he didn't bother trying to repress his grin, "probably one to the best professors I've met. Some of his theories are just revolutionary, he…" Merlin trailed off, Lance's quiet cough barely concealed his amusement – he could swear he heard similar muffled sounds coming from Arthur, too – and Merlin felt himself flush a tad as he realised he'd been going on a bit. "Yeah. Like I said, he's brilliant."

"That is a relief to hear," Uther said, though there was no such emotion evident in either his tone or his manner, just a vague sense of contemplation. He paused, his eyes looking over the three of them in turn. "I shan't waste any of our time," he said after a moment, with his eyes on Merlin and Lance he continued, "the reason I invited you both here was to thank you for your actions last night."

"Sir, if I may," Lance said, his voice quiet and courteous, but also authoritative. Uther turned to him, with a gesture to continue. "I think I speak on behalf of both of us when I say that we'd have done it for anyone. I'm glad our actions helped save some lives, but we didn't do it for the reward."

"Nevertheless," Uther said, considering his words and seeming slightly impressed by Lance's lack of expectation and his gallantry, "I would like to offer you a reward. My son would no doubt have been seriously injured – if not dead – if it were not for you."

"That was Merlin, actually," Lance corrected, "I just saved the other guys – Bors and Kay? Merlin was the one who saved Arthur."

Uther raised an eyebrow slightly, his eyes travelling between the gangly, over-intelligent Merlin and the broad, ruggedly-handsome and athletic Lance. Which, you know, did make it seem sound sort of ludicrous.

But there _was_ something vaguely surreal about the whole situation. What were the chances that Merlin (who just so happened to have magic like his namesake) would end up studying at the same school as Arthur Pendragon (who was likely a descendant of _the_ King Arthur) and wind up saving his life mere days after their meeting?

It was all utterly bizarre.

Uther's attention returned to Merlin, who shifted in further discomfort. His mouth had a tendency to run away with itself when he was nervous, and the last thing he needed would be to blurt out something about his magic mid-babble. "Yeah, like he said," Merlin put in quickly, "no reward necessary. Just doing what's right."

"You've been here less than a week and already saved my son's life," Uther said, both his eyebrows rising as he gave them a small approving smile, "I believe that is debt that must be repaid. I will notify you of this recompense by the end of the day. Thank you for your time."

* * *

"Well, that was…" Lance whistled, after they waved a brief goodbye to Ruth and stepped into the hallway. He was shaking his head as though he couldn't quite believe what had happened.

"Was that your first time meeting Uther?" Merlin asked.

"Yeah," Lancelot admitted, "he's not exactly a public person. He's at all the events, I mean, but he doesn't exactly stroll the corridors chatting with students. Jeez, a bit creepy, isn't he?"

"You're telling me," Merlin laughed, "maybe that's why Arthur's so-" He broke off, seeing Arthur stepping into the hallway.

"Oh, don't mind me," Arthur said, his expression a mix of mild bemusement and that vague ever-present air of superiority. "What was that you were going to say?"

Lance nudged Merlin's arm, trying to regain his attention. "You wanna see if Michael and Rose aren't busy? You can actually meet them this time."

"Aw, don't run away!" Arthur called after them chidingly.

Merlin stilled. He turned back around, hearing Lance's exasperated sigh as he did so. "Run from you?" Merlin asked, his lips quirking up in humour.

"Yeah, after that stunt you pulled yesterday I was beginning to think you _weren't_ a coward, but maybe…" Arthur arched an eyebrow challengingly.

"'That stunt'?" Merlin demanded, his grin widening in pure surprise, "Seriously? I _saved_ your _life_." Arthur opened his mouth to retort, but Merlin shook his head, stepping back towards Lancelot. "Nevermind. I already knew you were an ass. Forget it. Better try not to piss anyone else off, Arthur, I'm not sure I'll be around to rescue you next time."

He turned his back, falling into step beside Lance as they left the corridor.

* * *

Arthur was caught between annoyance and remorse once again. But he couldn't blame anyone but himself.

He _had_ been acting like a royal ass.

But that still didn't excuse Merlin's impudence.

Or did it?

Dammit all to hell. He just didn't know anymore.

* * *

"So…Michael and Rose?" Lance ventured again once they were in the open air outside the administration building.

"Sorry, Lance, Gaius has given me a bunch of papers he expects me to read through for tomorrow," he smiled in apology, but Lancelot was already waving it off with an easy smile.

"In that case, I'll see you later. Stay away from Arthur! He looked about ready to skin you earlier," Lance smirked as he walked off.

"He could try!" Merlin yelled back, rousing more laughter from Lancelot. He was still grinning as he headed into the library.

* * *

It was late by the time Merlin tore himself away from the library, much to the pleasure of the librarian – a sour-faced old man called Geoffrey who only seemed happy when his library was either empty or in complete silence (or both) – and when he arrived back at their room it was to find a letter waiting for him.

"It looks pretty official," Lance commented as Merlin picked up the envelope from the table. He observed inattentively until Merlin's eyes widened, his jaw dropped and he spine stiffened.

"He can't be serious," Merlin said, his tone bland. "If this…No. Seriously. It has to be a joke." Merlin looked down at the paper in his hands and felt a mix of surprise, annoyance and dread coil in his stomach. Lance was on his bed, watching Merlin's reaction to the letter warily.

"What does it say?" Lancelot demanded, arching his neck to try and get a view of the paper Merlin held in his hands. "Seriously, mate, just tell me."

Merlin held the paper out wordlessly. "A tasteless, very un-funny joke," he muttered as Lance read through the letter, quickly dissolving into an abrupt bark of laughter. Shutting his mouth, he pressed his lips together and stared at Merlin. His lips twitched and finally he couldn't help a broad, highly entertained smirk.

"That," Lance chortled as he crossed the room and dropped onto the bed beside Merlin, "is absolutely classic."

"It's not funny," Merlin muttered.

"Mate," Lance said, sobering up a little and giving him a very frank look, "it's bloody hilarious."

"I just don't get it," Merlin said, "How is this a reward? How is this _fair_?"

"I'm not sure fairness comes into it," Lance said, still smiling though he did sound sincerely sympathetic.

"I saved his life. And now I'm what? His assistant?"

"Sounds like."

"That's bollocks."

"That's Uther."

* * *

The Pendragons were nothing if not a close family, and fiercely protective of one another.

When Morgana heard about Arthur's near-miss with the car, she'd been over to Arthur's room in a minute; irritated, berating and relieved. She'd lost her parents when she was young, and then been raised by Uther all her life since. so Arthur was a brother to her, and as much as they could argue for all of England, she loved him and would kill to keep him safe.

As for Arthur, the feeling was very much mutual.

In fact, she was one of the only reasons he persisted in attending the family dinners that Uther insisted they attend regularly.

It was at one of their weekly dinners that night, that Arthur learnt his father's plan.

"You what?" he demanded, fork clattering onto his plate as he stared at his father in disbelief.

"Must I really repeat myself?" Uther asked, an eyebrow arching.

"You're making Merlin my _assistant_?" Arthur demanded.

"Not precisely. I suggest for the time being you train him to assist you, but in future he may become a more effective aide and advisor to you – obviously depending on how this arrangement works out. Surely you see the merit? The boy has proved himself to be decent and respectful. He's highly intelligent. And he will have my commendation and character reference for whatever future jobs he may apply to. That, I believe, is worthy reparation. Wouldn't you agree?"

Morgana's smile was practically venomous, her green eyes glinting dangerously as she observed the scene before her. Morgana always had had a slightly vicious streak, and it gave her a small glimmer of satisfaction to see Arthur being bossed about in such a way, since he'd never endure it from anyone else.

Arthur was still dumbfounded.

Merlin, the same belligerent, babbling Merlin that proved to be utterly incapable of respectful behaviour, was going to be his advisor. They could barely manage a one minute conversation without it turning into a petty squabble. And he was pretty sure that Merlin would be more likely to fly to school on the back of a dragon than follow any orders from him.

"But _why_?" Arthur questioned again. "I don't _need_ an assistant."

"Arthur," Uther said, his tone condescending to the nth degree, "I have been telling you for weeks that you need someone to help you organise your life; especially if and when you intend to have a more active part in business. I decided to take the matter in my own hands. Do you have a problem with this arrangement?"

Yes. Many, countless, innumerable problems. "No, father. This will be perfectly fine. I'm sure Merlin will appreciate your generous offer."

"Indeed," Morgana agreed, taking a measured sip from her glass and continuing to eye the two men. "Now, I think that's enough heavy conversation for one meal, wouldn't you both agree?"

"Quite," Uther acquiesced instantly, "did you have anything in mind?"

"I was wondering when you last spoke to Helen?"

And Arthur had to hide a smile behind his hand at Uther's discomfited expression. Morgana's eyes flashed to her sibling briefly, and he gave her the barest nod of thanks in reply.

"Well, now, Helen and I…" Uther began, sounding practically gauche as he tackled the subject change.

However ruthless Arthur and Morgana could be, and however much they relished seeing the other in difficult situations, they had each other's backs when it counted; especially when their father was being a tyrannical despot and still arranging their lives like they were children.

* * *

Merlin had always been a deep sleeper, and a late sleeper, so it was an odd experience to wake up in the middle of the night for no apparent reason.

He sat up, looking around, but Lance was still asleep and snoring lightly. There were no disruptions in sight. No more noises. Just a peaceful ominous quiet.

With a confused frown, Merlin settled back down and tried to get back to fall back to sleep.

"_Merlin_."

He jolted abruptly upright, nearly falling out of his bed in his haste.

The room was still empty, the night still, but he knew he hadn't imagined that.

"_Merlin_," the disembodied voice called again, and there was something odd about the way it sounded…

"_Merlin_," the voice said again and he realised with a start that he wasn't exactly hearing it, it echoed inside his brain; less like a sound and more like a thought. But it definitely wasn't his. And that only served to confuse him further.

He rolled out of bed, too thoroughly distracted to get back to sleep with that new mystery on his mind. Mindful of Lancelot sleeping a few metres away, he stepped into his boots, grabbed a jacket and crept out of the room.

"_Merlin_," the voice called. Now that Merlin had a better grasp of the situation he could sort of sense the voice emanating from somewhere deep below him.

He followed the corridor, descending the two flights of stairs to the ground floor and walking along the empty hallways cautiously.

"_Merlin._"

He tried opening a heavy, wooden door tucked away in a slight alcove. It was locked.

"_Merlin_." The voice sounded a tad impatient.

With a huff of annoyance, he glanced around and then held his hand out before the lock. His magic was difficult to control, but usually it seemed to recognise his intent and respond accordingly. He felt it buzz through his body and heard a slight click with a rich sense of satisfaction.

Merlin opened the door, stepped into a dark room and quickly shut the door behind him.

Without even making a conscious decision, he felt his magic flare up again and along the wall a series of torches combusted. In the firelight he could see a staircase winding down into the darkness.

"Of course," he sighed, "of course, the voice has to be coming from the bottom of a creepy-ass staircase." He shook his head regrettably, but nonetheless reached to remove one of the old-fashioned wooden torches from the metal brace on the wall and started down the stairs.

"_Merlin,_" the voice called and it was definitely louder.

He didn't know how long he spent descending the stairs, but eventually he reached a large open cavern. It's sheer size was a big shock; it could've easily fit the entire residential building inside. He walked out further and realised the place on which he stood ended in a sheer drop into blackness.

"Merlin."

Merlin looked around desperately for the voice but it still seemed like he was alone. "Where are you?" he demanded. "I didn't come all the way down here in the middle of the night to be taunted? Is this a prank? Is Arthur gonna step out in a second and tell me I'm arrested for trespassing?"

There was a low, rumbling laugh, reminiscent of a cascade of falling rocks, and a sense of movement in the blackness and then a massive shape moved into the light. Well, it didn't move so much as _fly_.

"I'm here," the dragon said, regarding Merlin with massive golden eyes. "And, young warlock, I was assure you this is not a 'prank' of any sort. Although, admittedly, it does concern the young Pendragon."

"What the hell is going on?" Merlin gasped, his eyes wide in fear and shock. "Are you a-"

"Dragon? Yes, indeed. And you are the warlock known as Merlin."

"Alright," Merlin said, shutting his eyes, when he opened them he was feeling slightly more contained. "So what has this got to do with Arthur?"

The dragon tilted it's head and Merlin took the opportunity to inspect it. Its sheer size was breathtaking, and he figured if it was in the mood then it was more than big enough to swallow him whole; it was covered entirely in dark, scaly hide; great wings were folded along its back like those he'd seen in books and on T.V. when he was younger; it's eyes were large and golden, a similar colour to Merlin's when he did magic, and they regarded him with a wise and knowing gaze. Finally, Merlin heard the clattering of metal and noticed a heavy chain fixed around one of its legs, grounding it within the great cavern.

"This has everything to do with Arthur Pendragon," the dragon continued, his voice low and loud and oddly familiar, "for he is the Once and Future King. He shall be the one to unite the worlds of magic and mortality, and protect the land of Albion from forces conspiring against it."

"Arthur?" Merlin asked. He could hardly imagine a person who would be less accepting of magic than no-nonsense, Mr I'm-In-Charge Pendragon. Except perhaps his father.

"He will face many challenges and threats along the way. It is your destiny to guide and protect him. Without you, none of this will come to fruition."

"You want _me_ to 'guide and protect' him?" Merlin laughed. "Are you insane?"

"I have been locked in solitude in this cavern for decades," the dragon boomed, "I am thousands of years old. I know the way of the world, young warlock – better than you can ever hope to. Everyone is born with a destiny. And this…this is your destiny; whether you choose to accept it or not."

"But you-"

"You _cannot_ escape your destiny, Merlin!" the dragon called, it's voice ringing in Merlin's head as it flapped its broad wings in swift downward strokes and disappeared back into the blackness.

"Wait! Come back!" he yelled, but the dragon was finished with him and would not respond.

He stood for minutes in silence, trying to comprehend what had just happened, and attempting to convince himself that: 1. A dragon had telepathically woken him, then lured him down into a great cavern beneath the school, 2. Informed him that apparently Arthur was destined to save the world (or some such heroic event), 3. Told him it was his 'destiny' to help Arthur, and then 4. Just flown off and elected to ignore him.

After the torch began to stutter and its light wavered dangerously, Merlin decided to retreat to his bed for the night and try and find some small measure of peace in unconsciousness rather than stewing over it any longer. But the entire walk to his room, all Merlin could think about was his life's steady decline from something resembling normal to this completely mental world full of heroic prats and talking dragons.

Apparently Camelot was an even more apt name for Camden than he'd thought.

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **

**I'm posting this at 1.20am, I'm running off of raspberry cordial and Cadbury's chocolate at the moment, so don't judge too much if the chapter's not up to par. It's the school holidays at the end of this week, so I'll be updating more often for this coming fortnight. Also, I hope you're not too bored, the plot's (hopefully) going to get more interesting/funny from here on in, and YES it is still a Merthur, just wait and see...**

~April


	6. Chapter 6: Mutual Irritations

For the first few minutes after Merlin woke up, he was completely oblivious and content to just lie there in the soft warmth of his bed. And then he remembered the accursed letter he'd received the night before.

_Dammit_.

With a groan, he pushed back the covers and sat up to realise that Lance was still fast asleep, snoring quietly in his own bed. It was the first time he'd woken up before his roommate (although, admittedly, he'd only been at the school for two days) and it was an unexpected novelty. Plus, it relieved a slight worry he'd had that Lancelot never got a proper lie-in. After living in a small town for the majority of his life, with little to do in the mornings other than eat breakfast and go off to school (or work, as was the case later on), he struggled to fathom how someone could start their morning at such an early time and still be fully functional for the rest of the day.

Merlin sighed a little and ran his fingers through his bedhead as he reread the letter he had received.

The only thing it really said was that in reward for the selfless act of saving Arthur's life, he would have the honour of becoming Arthur's assistant with on-campus affairs and have the opportunity to accompany him on related off-campus excursions.

Which didn't really tell him anything helpful at all.

Which meant he'd have to ask someone what the hell he was actually expected to do.

Which meant confronting either Arthur or Uther on the subject.

_Dammit._

Morgana Pendragon was as ruthless and intelligent as Arthur was, but she had a more devious nature and an innate womanly charm that oftentimes saved her from dealing with the consequences of her plots.

Arthur could recall with precise detail each times her schemes had ended with Arthur taking the brunt of the punishment – and that wasn't to say that she wasn't sympathetic when that happened, but she certainly wouldn't care to own up for it.

And it was because of those occasionally deceitful ways that he was naturally wary of any suggestions coming from her.

"So…I just thought I should let you know…" Morgana said, during a phone call on Saturday morning, and Arthur suppressed a sigh.

"Yes?" he pressed her, keeping his tone light.

"I've decided to study at Camden for a semester," she said, her tone highly amused.

"Why?" he asked her, letting out a long-suffering sigh. "It's not exactly a game, Morgana, you can't just join classes on a whim because you're bored."

"I'm not bored," she countered, "I'm highly entertained, especially by that new student you've been going on about; Merlin. All these chats between you and Uther have gotten me interested in overseeing the events. Plus, I've been curious about the company. I know Uther plans on you taking over once you're old enough, and I know he's got a team of specialists running it for now, but it's aggravating not knowing what you two are talking about when you discuss it."

All in all, Arthur wasn't surprised. Morgana did enjoy stirring things up, and if she thought it was going to be funny watching Merlin and Arthur struggle to work together then she would make sure she was close enough to watch. In fact, he couldn't accurately guess which her main intention was: to get a better knowledge of the company (for Morgana so loathed the idea of being ignorant on a subject) or spying on this disastrous new arrangement.

"Fine," he replied tersely, "shall I tell father to prepare a room for you?"

"Already done," she told her gleefully, "and I've just finished up arranging my classes, so I have some spare time. I think I'll just have a look around the school; circulate, make connections – just like at those damnable dinner parties."

"Don't go causing any trouble."

"When do I ever cause trouble, Arthur?"

"Where do you think he'll be?" Merlin asked Lance over breakfast.

They were in the dining hall, tucking into their full English breakfasts with relish, while other students clamoured about at other tables clustered around. It wasn't nearly as busy as when they'd had dinner there, but that was to be expected at ten o'clock on a Saturday morning.

"Hmm…" Lance murmured, swallowing another bite of toast. "Not sure. What do you reckon he even does in his spare time? Just stays in his room staring at himself in the mirror?"

Merlin laughed, grinning, "Nah, he probably goes around stealing sweets from little kids."

"Kicking puppies?"

"Almost definitely. Probably kittens, too."

"And _you're_ the lucky guy that gets to help him out," Lance returned with a broad smile.

"Don't keep reminding me."

"You'll have to talk to him sooner or later," Lancelot said in a gentler tone.

"I know," Merlin sighed, "but, honestly, where do you think he'd be?"

"You could always just go to the Uther's secretary and ask for his number, she's got to have it written down somewhere."

"Why didn't I think of that?" Merlin muttered.

Morgana's call had interrupted his morning routine, so afterwards Arthur decided he'd skip his usual jog and just grab a quick coffee before heading over to Leon's room and discussing strategy for the upcoming match against Barton College next week.

He was standing in the queue at the campus coffee shop when he felt his phone start to buzz.

"Hello?" he said, barely glancing at the caller ID that had only said 'Unknown' anyway.

"Ah, hey Arthur, it's Merlin," the now-familiar voice said. By his guess, Merlin sounded a little uneasy. "I'm calling about the…uh, about my 'reward'."

"Oh," Arthur said, feeling about as unhappy as Merlin sounded with the prospect, "so you heard about that."

"Yeah, got a letter last night," he replied.

Arthur paused. What was he supposed to say to _that_? Although, it did sound like Uther's style, he advocated any sort of communication that lacked actual personal interaction – except for texting funnily enough; he appreciated the convenience of a mobile phone but lacked any interests in other applications besides phone calls. "So why are you calling then?"

He covered the mouthpiece as he stepped forward to the front of the cue, quickly ordering his favourite coffee blend and flashing the barista a quick smile, as Merlin's voice rambled on about something Arthur couldn't hear.

"What?" he asked once he was finished, stepping to the side to wait for his order.

"I _said_," Merlin said with exasperation, "I don't really get what I'm supposed to do. I mean, I know it said I'm supposed to be your assistant or something, but it never really said why or what that entails. So…care to explain?"

"Arthur Pendragon!" a woman behind the counter called, her eyes widening appreciatively as she saw him approach.

"Listen Merlin," he said, grabbing his takeaway cup from her with a nod a thanks and a distracted smile, taking a quick sip of the boiling drink as he left the shop, "this wasn't my idea, and I'm not too happy with it either, but when my father makes a decision you can't just ignore him."

"Oh, really?" Merlin scoffed, "Still taking orders from daddy?"

"Merlin," Arthur replied, with seemingly effortless patience, "you have met my father twice, have you not?"

"Yes…?"

"Does he seem like the type of man to endure subordination from anyone? Let alone his children."

"Ah…no?"

"Exactly," Arthur took another questing mouthful of his coffee, even more satisfying at the slightly less painful temperature, "so to start with you can stop mocking me like I'm some snobby, pampered rich kid, which I am not-" He ignored a muffled snort from Merlin, his jaw clenching slightly in irritation. "And start showing me a little respect."

"Oh, really?" Merlin replied, "well, I'll stop treating you like a self-entitled prat when you stop treating me like some idiot new kid on campus. I got enough of that in school. I sort of thought Uni would be different."

"I'm sorry, but with a name like 'Merlin', what did you expect?"

"What're you trying to say about my name?"

"Oh, _nothing_, of _course_," Arthur replied, grinning despite himself as he took another swallow of his coffee.

"Hmph," Merlin grunted.

"I'm a little busy right now. Can we discuss this later?"

"Later? When later?" Merlin demanded resignedly.

"Well, I've got some errands to run, people to talk to, and then footie training this afternoon, so…this evening? After practise? We can all go for a drink perhaps? I'm sure Kay and Bors'll want to thank you both. And Leon was about ready to wring my neck for nearly getting myself killed, he'll probably think you two are some kind of heroes."

"Funnily enough, Arthur," Merlin retorted, "in some cultures, saving a person's life is considered a reasonably heroic act. And it's good to hear _some people_ appreciate not dying. Is six alright?" he added, almost as an afterthought.

"Ye-" Arthur began, his reply cut off by a disconnecting beep. He pulled the phone from his ear, an eyebrow cocked doubtfully as he regarded the End Call screen and let out a small huff of annoyance.

Apparently Merlin's talent lay in being both surprising and rude at any possible time and place.

When Merlin had arrived at Gaius's office later that morning, he could hardly fathom why he'd agreed to do extra work on a Saturday of all days, but by the time they surrounded by research papers and discussing the relative pros and cons of different reactants in their particular equation, he had remembered: because he genuinely enjoyed learning with Professor Gaius.

"I think that's enough theoretical science for now," Gaius said, shutting an old tome with a resounding thud. It amazed Merlin that Gaius was still able to heft around such large books at his age (not that he would ever say anything of the sort of Gaius) and he constantly wondered at their validity; seriously, how relevant could books be when they looked about two hundred years old?

"What time is it?" Merlin asked, rolling his shoulders.

"Two o'clock," Gaius replied as he got up and crossed the room, shifting through the organised mess on his desk to find an old leather-bound book.

"But I thought we were going to be studying until three?" Merlin asked, his inquisitive blue eyes following Gaius's movements curiously.

"Indeed," the older man replied, slipping a pair of spectacles back onto the bridge of his nose and peering at the inscriptions on the spine of the book.

They sat like that for a few minutes, Gaius seemingly struggling to read what was printed on the spine of the aged book and Merlin watching and trying to quell his Need To Know.

Eventually, though, he caved to his curiosity.

"What is that?" he demanded.

"A book," Gaius told him.

"A book about _what_?" Merlin questioned.

"Magic," Gaius smirked back, his eyes rising to fix back on Merlin with a wry glint.

"Gaius. Why do you have a book on magic?" Merlin asked. He was already impatient to have his hands on the book, to devour every written word.

When Merlin had confessed the story of his magic, both the ease of use and the daily struggled to contain it, Gaius had been silent. And afterwards, he'd simply made a understanding sort of sound and shooed Merlin out of his office. Merlin had taken it to mean that Gaius either hadn't believed him, or had some important matter on his mind, and hadn't brought it up the next time they spoke. But the existence of a book about magic shocked him.

"As you may have noticed, Merlin, I am by no means young," Gaius said and his face remained impassive even as he watched Merlin hold back a sarcastic retort, "and I admit that in my youth, I dabbled in the occult – well…perhaps dabbled is too weak a word. In actual fact, my first love, a beautiful girl named Alice, was a practising Wiccan and it was she that roused my interest in things of an arcane nature. After that, it didn't take long for me to gain a legitimate interest in the subject itself. I spent much of my youth learning what I could of magic, both fact and fiction, and although I had to forget those for many years while I completed my formal education, the topic had ever since been one that intrigued me." He paused to think for a moment before continuing. "In my years since then I have travelled across the British isles, and even occasionally into Europe, to learn more of magic, and I have amassed quite a knowledge. However, you are one of the few magic users I've had the honour to meet in recent times, and certainly the youngest."

"There are more people like me?" Merlin asked, genuinely surprised and startled by how exciting he found the prospect.

"What'd you think, boy? That you were unique?" he laughed shortly, "Well, you are, I suppose, in some respects. You are the youngest and most powerful warlock I have met to date."

"Warlock…?"

"What did you think we called practisers of magic?" Gaius demanded, "Magicians?" He laughed again.

"Alright, alright," Merlin smiled, "so I'm a warlock. Tell me about the others."

"Mostly they were people with negligible magic prowess. Occasionally they could predict unimportant events, some doctors had above average healing abilities. A few times, I met men and women capable of real magic, spell-casters that were able to change the appearance of a person or object." He smiled in memory and shook his head slowly, "Some of it I can still hardly believe. But someone of your ability? Never."

"Wow," Merlin sighed. "And what did you mean about 'recent times'? Is magic not as common?"

"Well, Merlin, it's hardly as commonly accepted, is it?" he asked gently. "If you believe you are considered 'crazy'. Most people will go through life unaware that they have any magical ability at all. And all of this modern technology is making certain magic irrelevant. The ability to communicate across long-distances? Why bother when you can use a phone or computer? Modern innovation is an amazing thing, certainly, but there is something about the quaintness of ancient times that can make you weary of all our conveniences."

"Hmm…I see what you mean," Merlin said after a moment, "I mean, back in Ealdor we were lucky if we got one bar of signal in some areas. It can be peaceful being so far removed from everything."

"Exactly, my boy," Gaius nodded, "anyway, where was I?"

"The book?"

"Yes! The book. I discovered this book while I was in Ireland, actually. That land is considered by many as the birthplace of magic, and certainly it is a more accepted practise over there among some people. I was given this book by an old man when I was still young myself. He told me that one day I would find the person this book was meant for, and that they may be able to understand what is written." He handed Merlin the book, who accepted it was careful, reverent hands. "What does it say across the spine?"

Merlin frowned, peering down at the aged brown leather and the worn gold letters printed there. "It just says ' The Book of Magyk'," Merlin replied, shrugging.

"So you can read it?" Gaius clarified, his eyes widening.

"Of course. It's there in plain English," Merlin told him.

"Actually, Merlin, you're the first person I've met able to read it. For some their mind is simply unable to register what is written, for others the letters seem scrambled and nonsensical, and some people even read it in a language they do not comprehend. But you are the first person that had ever been able to understand the writing."

Merlin looked back at the book with renewed reverence and brushed his fingers across the cover. "Thank you, Gaius," he said quietly, looking up at his Professor.

"I assure you," Professor Gaius Wilson told him, his light blue eyes gentle and warm, "it is entirely my pleasure."

"Not like that!" Arthur roared, jogging across the pitch to where some of the players were going through drills. "Who do you think you'd going to evade with moves like that? Children? We've got a big game coming up soon, lads, we can hardly afford such little effort."

"Yes, Captain!" they chanted back, putting renewed effort into the practise, intent of their quick passes and runs.

"I think they're looking better, Arthur," Leon said, jogging up beside him, breathing deeply.

"Not good enough," Arthur replied quietly.

"We've still got another week," Leon told him patiently.

"And we're still two players short," he grunted.

"_One_ short," Leon corrected, "we don't really need that many subs for now. I doubt we'll have three injuries in one match."

"I know," Arthur agreed, "but I don't feel good about having empty positions in the team."

"It's not like we don't have enough candidates," Leon reminded him.

"Yeah," Arthur said, half his concentration on tracking the movements of one of the newer players. He was quick on his feet, but some of his team skills still required some work, he wasn't too good at passing the ball when need be. "But half of them are crap, and the other half are just auditioning for a laugh. We've probably seen three people this week with any sort of talent and they all have other commitments, so forget that."

"Arthur," Leon said, a hand falling on his friends shoulder, his blue-grey eyes calm as ever, "Don't. Worry. You're the best team captain in England, and this is going to be the best team. Have some faith in yourself."

"I'll have some faith in myself when they start to improve," Arthur replied shortly, jogging back over to break them up and start some other drills.

"You want me to go and have a drink with Arthur and his mates?" Lance asked, shutting his laptop and turning to face Merlin fully.

"With me, too," Merlin put in, grinning.

"Why?"

"Because I have to, and I don't want to do it alone?" he suggested.

Lance smirked, "Oh? But you'll have Arthur to talk to all evening."

"Yeah and you know how much I'm looking forward to that," he sighed, "but I think you kind of owe me."

"I…Owe…You?"

"Uh, yes?"

"What for, Merlin?" he asked, highly amused. "Perhaps for introducing me to the _lovely_ Arthur and his unbearable father? Or maybe you mean for getting me into a situation where I risked my life saving some strangers? Or maybe even for-"

"Okay, I get it!" Merlin interrupted, laughing. "Although I'm pretty sure you'd have tried to save those guys anyway; you seem the type. What I meant was-"

"What do you mean 'I seem the type'?"

"What I meant was," Merlin repeated, ignoring him, "that you could've had a many worse roommates. Considering your last, I'm not too shabby, right?"

"Well…"

"Lancelot!"

"Of course I'll go with you, you idiot!" he laughed, "Don't get your knickers in a twist, just let me get ready and we'll go see your lovely new friends."

"They're not my- Oh, shut up! Stop laughing at me, Lance!"


	7. Chapter 7: Ineffective Ideas

Merlin was early, again, and growing increasingly concerned that punctuality was a side effect of his nervousness. He looked up at the pub's entrance for the third time in the space of a minute and heard Lance let out a quiet sigh before speaking.

"Merlin," he said, "relax, will you? You'd think we were at the chopping block waiting for the executioner. Not in our local waiting for that pompous prat with a superiority complex."

"Well, your wait is over," a distinctly un-Merlin voice replied, prompting Lancelot to turn around so quickly Merlin was concerned he'd injure his spine. "Lance? Right? I don't believe we've been formally introduced. Usually, people just called me Arthur."

"Ah, shit, sorry about that. I was just-"

"I've heard worse," Arthur assured him with a smirk, settling into a seat opposite them. "And this is my good friend, Leon," he added, gesturing to the man who had entered with him. Leon resembled Arthur in a few ways, what with their similar broad-shouldered, muscular frames, but his blue eyes were lighter and almost grey, and his hair, although also blond, was a mess of curls. He also had some unshaven scuff across his jaw and around his mouth that looked like the beginnings of a beard.

"Nice to meet you," Leon said, "especially since without you two I'd probably be attending a triple funeral shortly."

"She wouldn't have killed us," Arthur muttered, sounding like it was an argument that he'd all but given up on.

"From what Kay and Bors have told me," Leon replied, without looking over at his friend, "you three would have been a smear on the pavement. Thank God _some people_ can manage to go out and not get utterly plastered," he finished, grinning at Merlin and Lance.

"Well, sometimes," Lance amended, earning him a quiet chuckle from the others.

"A pint?" Arthur asked, tilting his head at Leon, who nodded and murmured his thanks before falling into conversation with Lancelot. Arthur glanced at their half-empty glasses in silent question, but both Merlin and Lance turned down the unspoken offer. Then Merlin watched as Arthur slid out of his seat and walked up to the bar, getting served immediately despite the few people already waiting along the stretch of sticky beer-dampened counter.

So far, at least, Arthur seemed less abrasive than usual. Merlin put that down to the presence of Leon, who seemed like Arthur's reasonable, right-hand. People like Arthur, he supposed, needed a limiting reagent like Leon around, just to counteract his occasionally pretentious personality.

Kay and Bors arrived just as Arthur returned to the table, leaden with four glasses as though he'd perfectly predicted their arrival time. "Cheers," Kay said, sitting down and immediately downing a mouthful of the drink.

"You up for some darts later?" Bors asked, already eyeing the board hanging against the wall in the corner.

Leon smirked and shook his head, "You've been here all of a minute."

"I said 'later', didn't I?"

* * *

_Maybe_, Arthur mused, an hour later, while he watched Bors giving Merlin pointers on the best technique for throwing darts, _it hadn't been the smartest decision to continue our conversation in a pub on a Saturday night._

In fact, the closest they'd come to discussing the matter at hand had been a sly joke Kay had thrown into conversation, much to everyone's amusement. Other than that, the party had been intent on socialising. It turned out that Lance and the guys got on pretty well, and Merlin, although more hesitant around Kay and Bors' somewhat overwhelming personalities, was pretty quick witted when it came to wordplay, getting the better of Kay on more than one occasion.

"So, he's really gonna be your assistant?" Leon asked, sitting down beside Arthur, who had opted out of the game because 'someone had to keep them honest'.

"Basically," Arthur replied, his eyes fixed on the game, watching idly as Merlin nearly doubled over in laughter when his dart thunked into the wall beside the board.

"It could be worse," Leon shrugged, his tone commiserating, but light enough not to ruin the good cheer of the evening. "He's hardly the intolerable, insubordinate dolt you made him out to be."

"I never-"

"I was paraphrasing," Leon chuckled.

"He doesn't know anything about helping with a footie team," Arthur responded, "and what can be possibly helping me with concerning the business? He's a maths prodigy, not a bloody secretary."

"Well, Uther's not going to accept that. You'll just have to make things work, I guess."

"I'll think of something," Arthur said resignedly, draining the last dregs of lukewarm ale from his glass.

* * *

Merlin hadn't spent much time throwing darts in pubs and having a laugh with the guys during his life. He and Will had always been up to something in Ealdor, sure, whether it was in their youth when they built tree houses and explored the countryside, or when they got older and they continued terrorising their neighbours in increasingly imaginative ways and sneaking into the few parties that had been thrown in the relatively small town.

But it wasn't anything similar to what being with Arthur's mates was like – that was for sure.

"Merlin," Arthur called, his voice startling loud and when Merlin turned around he realised it had been because Arthur was only a handful of inches from him, having to raise his voice to be heard over the Saturday night cacophony, "can we go outside for a minute?"

"Yeah, sure," Merlin replied, ducking into the convenient gap left in Arthur's wake as he turned and wended his way outside.

The noise level was instantly much lower, and the cool air was a startling difference compared to the stuffy warmth inside. They took a few steps away from the door, avoiding a shifty drunk-looking man leaning absently against the wall a couple metres from them.

"I figured this was the only way we'd actually get to talk," Arthur said in explanation, which was one of the more sensible decisions of the evening. Out there, the only disturbances were the handful of cars and passers-by traversing the street.

"Right. Good idea," Merlin conceded. "Is this about the Uther-thing?"

"No, Merlin," Arthur replied drily, "I just thought you'd like to discuss the finer points of aiming darts in a cooler environment." He quirked an eyebrow, but Merlin pressed his lips together and gestured for him to continue. "So, the 'Uther-thing'. Well."

"Well?"

"Just…shut up for a minute, would you, Merlin?"

"Right. Shutting up." A few seconds went past and he let out a little huff of air, unsurprised to note it was cold enough for his breath to cloud up in the space ahead of him. "Are you going to talk soon?" Merlin prodded, "because it's cold out here and-"

"You can't do anything, can you? Not even shut up for thirty seconds?" Arthur muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, and dropping his head forward dolefully. "Nevermind, don't answer that. So, the bottom line is that Uther had essentially made you my assistant until further notice. I don't know why – it certainly wasn't _my_ idea – but there won't be any changing his mind now, so we may as well deal with it."

"Deal with it how?" Merlin asked, forcing himself to be patient, because clearly Arthur wasn't jumping for joy at the prospect either. Arthur opened his eyes and straightened, looking at Merlin intently, and it was only then that Merlin could see how very vivid his eyes were, like little baby blue sapphires. He snapped his gaze away quickly, looking around at the dimly lit street and trying to stop thinking about how the sharp angles of Arthur's face looked in the glow of the streetlights.

"Well," Arthur said, and he sounded normal, not as though he'd just caught Merlin staring at him in a distinctly abnormal way, "I guess we'll have to figure that out along the way. I've got a lecture on management skills at eight o'clock on Monday, but maybe we could meet up at the library at…say, ten and go over what needs doing?"

"Yeah, sure," Merlin quickly acquiesced, turning back around to face Arthur, his eyes determinedly under control and not about to fixate again on Arthur's bone structure or annoyingly blue eyes.

"Shall we…?" Arthur said, indicating toward the door. Merlin murmured agreement, nodding and walking back to the entry and pushing back inside. He moved through the few clusters of people with noticeably less grace than Arthur had, but that was hardly surprising.

He nodded at Lance and received a quick reassured smile in return, before sitting at the table and taking a much-needed swig of beer, filing his concerning behaviour away from review on a later date.

* * *

They didn't stay at the pub much longer, Arthur very conscious of the frequency of his visits that week, and walked back to campus as a group. Chatting in twos and threes, relatively calm and jovial.

"Seriously, Lance," Kay said, his voice barely sounding affected by the drink though he'd drank his fair share in the few hours they'd been there, "I think you should join the team."

Arthur, having been unaware of that topic of conversation, walked in step with them, noticing the way Lance rolled his eyes but had a lingering smile. "We have training on Tuesday if you're interested," he said, and Lance turned to him, "there are a few empty spots on the team still, so you're welcome to try out."

"I don't really play much footie," Lance admitted, "I was more into rugby when I was a kid."

"Oh, give over," Merlin put in, nudging Lance with his elbow, "I bet you'd be a natural."

"I guess there's no harm in trying out," Lancelot agreed and then they were off talking about the training plans and upcoming matches and Merlin listened on bemusedly, very much uninformed but content to watch from a distance. It was something he'd become more comfortable with since he finished school and started spending less time with Will; when one was alone, they tended to get used to observing from the outside instead of being in the thick of it.

And then Lance caught his eyes and they grinned at each other, and he remembered he wasn't outside of it this time. There people were his friends now, too.

All those fears about being alone at Uni had been unfounded, it seemed. No doubt his mother would be glad to hear it when he finally got around to giving her a call.

* * *

Sunday dawned bright and Merlin rose before Lancelot again.

Feeling decidedly productive, he spent the hour before his roommate awoke tidying his bookshelves and giving order to the small collection he'd amassed, a jumble of fiction and non-fiction, school workbooks and eclectic fantasy novels.

"Mornin'," Lance groaned, and Merlin lifted his head to see Lance sit up and stretch his arms out behind his back as he yawned.

"Good morning," he responded.

"You been up long?" Lance asked him as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes and swung his legs over the side of the bed. Merlin was sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of the low bookshelf, the majority of his collection filling the shelves, double-stacked in places and the few leftovers piled on the floor beside it.

"An hour or so," Merlin shrugged.

"Hung-over?" he asked, rubbing at his temples lightly. Merlin arched an eyebrow incredulously and returned his attention to the shelves, not even bothering with an answer, attempting to project an air of unabashed good health. "Typical," Lance smirked, shaking his head. "Do you mind if I bail on you for today? I've got a project I need to work on with Michael and we figured we'd do a bunch of it today."

"No problem," Merlin told him honestly, "I've got some things I need to do, I figure I'll just go into Camden later, check out some of the shops. Maybe give my mum a call; God knows she's probably been sitting at the phone waiting for me to ring her ever since I left."

"Is this your first time away from home?" Lancelot asked, seeming a little surprised, as though the thought had hardly occurred to him before.

"Not exactly," Merlin hedged, "I mean, it's my first time this _far_ from home, and I've never been somewhere as posh as Camden before, but…y'know, I did get out occasionally."

"Yeah," Lance murmured to himself distractedly, "well, if you have any problems while you're in town then just give me a bell, otherwise, I'll be 'round and about."

"Alright. See you later," Merlin agreed as he turned his attention back to his own mental inventory and finished unpacking the last of his belongings. Lance left and Merlin looked around the space that they would be sharing for the foreseeable future – or at least the next three years, he hoped. It wasn't what he'd expected, but he'd hardly known what to expect. The idea of university had been something of a dream, an ideal, a place to challenge himself and learn and 'expand his horizons'. Hunith had certainly seemed about as excited as he was when he received his acceptance letter.

"Right. Mum," Merlin muttered, he scrubbed a hand through his hair and grabbed his mobile, flopping back on his bed before dialling in his home number easily from memory.

"Merlin?" his mother warm voice replied, and he felt a rush of homesickness.

"It's me, mum," he replied, "how've you-"

"Oh, son, it's so lovely to hear from you," she gushed, and he could practically smell the freshly baked goods she cooked in her spare time. "I was so worried about sending you off to England, you know how far away it is, and you were all alone. My poor boy, off to university already-"

"Mum," he laughed happily, cutting in, "calm down. I'm fine."

"Well, of course you are," she sighed, "but it's a mother's prerogative to worry, Merlin." He grinned up at the ceiling as he waited for her inquisition to begin. "So, what's the school like?"

"It's massive," he replied, "and old. The dean isn't too bad, but his son can be a bit of an ass at times."

"Oh, really, Merlin," Hunith tutted, "you've not even been at the school a week. What've I told you about judging people?"

"I _know_," he grumbled, "it doesn't make him less of an ass if I don't say it though."

"No, but it makes _you_ less of one," she returned, and he could practically see her victorious demeanour, complete with smug smile, at another argument won. Merlin wasn't sure if it was women, or just mothers, or just his mother, but she seemed to derive some base pleasure from proving him wrong and beating back his every line of argument.

"Fine, fine," he agreed vaguely, "what's it been like in Ealdor since I've gone? Will's not causing havoc, is he?"

"Don't think you're getting out of it that easily," she chided, "I want to know all about Camden first."

"But-"

"Less complaining, more talking," she reproved him, and with an internal sigh he resigned himself to a long and in-depth conversation courtesy of his overly curious mother.

* * *

"That Lancelot lad doesn't sound half bad," Hunith commented once he'd finished relaying the facts.

"He's not," Merlin agreed, "Lance is probably one of the best things about this place. Except for Gaius that is. You didn't tell me he knew about my secret."

"Yes, well, my brother always was the intelligent sort – it's probably where you get it from. He's pretty quick witted, always figuring out any puzzle you put at him; at least, he was when we were younger."

"Then he's not changed a bit," Merlin answered.

"Do you think you could give him my number, Merlin?" Hunith asked tentatively, "We've not spoken much in recent years, and letter-writing seems to have fallen out of fashion..."

"If you're just trying to spy on me…"

"Don't be silly, my boy," Hunith laughed, and the familiar bright sound seemed to envelop him for a moment, reminding him of all the good things she had done for him in his life, and giving him further reason to succeed at his studies. "Now, promise me you'll call me every weekend? And if anything bad happens, I want you to ring me right away."

"I promise," he told her obligingly, "It was so good to talk to you, I'll speak to you soon, mum. Love you."

"And I love you, Merlin, my boy. Enjoy university, and don't forget: work and leisure in equal balance."

"Yes, yes, I know," he assured her, "'bye, mum."

"'Bye, Merlin."

Merlin lay back, phone discarded on the blankets beside him, and realised that despite a brief stirring of melancholy earlier, he was genuinely glad to be a Camden. It wasn't going to be a struggle to enjoy his time there, and if things continued as they had been going with Gaius, then it was safe to say that he'd be very productive, too.

* * *

Arthur was in his room, books and notes spread out on the bed before him, music playing quietly in the background as he studied the class content in preparation for a possible pop quiz.

He was secure in the knowledge he had at least another few hours of uninterrupted study ahead of him, especially since he'd managed to forego a roommate in return for being son of the dean. Usually, he was reluctant to accept any sort of preferential treatment, but all his other friends had been partnered up already since the start of term, and he wasn't much interested in spending time with a complete stranger when he could have a room of his own.

While planning, however, he'd failed to factor in his ever-lovely sister.

"Morgana," he replied in a low tone, his eyes scanning her unimpressively.

She was standing in the doorway, wearing an airy light green dress, her wavy ebony hair hanging over one shoulder and a picnic basket hanging over one arm. Upon seeing him, she smiled and stepped past him into the room, looking around at his simple furnishings.

"What a lovely place you have," she commented.

"However honoured I am that you have graced me with your presence...why are you here?" he asked her, cutting to the chase, sitting back onto his bed and waiting for her to take a seat at the small table he had in place of a second bed.

She set the basket onto the table and removed the cloth covering its contents with a flourish.

"Wine?"

Morgana's smile broadened, "I brought a housewarming gift with me, since I assumed – correctly, I might add – that you wouldn't have gone to the trouble."

"It's university, not a new flat," he sighed, smiling at her despite himself. Her good humour had always been infectious, and he could help himself from succumbing to her hopeful demeanour. "And I'm not in the mood for a drink."

"Arthur Pendragon, not wanting a drink?" she gasped, clasping a hand over her mouth even as her eyes twinkled amusedly. With a small chuckle, she dropped her hands and began unpacking the basket onto the table. "I'm not trying to get you drunk and hung-over for Monday," she told him, though it was just the sort of thing he would expect from her when she was in that sort of mood, "it's just a pleasantly aged vintage that I liberated from Uther's cellar the other night. I thought it would be a good way to kick-start my academic career."

"Well, we have our first class at eight o'clock tomorrow," he told her, watching as she rooted through the basket and set down town wine glasses, filling them about halfway before handing one to Arthur. "So you better have some food in there, too; we can't finish the bottle on empty stomachs."

"That sounds more like it!" Morgana beamed broadly, clinking their glasses together.


End file.
